


Blue Skies

by BlueFluorine



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, Sacrifice Chloe Ending, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-12-05 00:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 90,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11566392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFluorine/pseuds/BlueFluorine
Summary: Dead girls don't come back to life, and good girls don't screw around with time. The Partners in Time and Crime break both of these rules as they try to bring an end to Arcadia Bay's worse storm in decades, using nothing but their wits, powers, and oh-so abundant people skills. Ready for the mosh pit?





	1. That Kind of Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, Fluorine here. This is my first story on AO3, so apologies if anything looks funky. I hope you all enjoy this read!

 

**Chapter 1 - That Kind of Crazy**

* * *

_October 11, 2013  
Friday_

How many times had she been here before? Faced with the tremendous power of the tornado, she dreaded this hilltop with every fiber of her being. She could still feel the static electricity in the air that made the hair on her neck stand on end, the terrible winds which threatened to topple her off the edge of the cliff, the suffocating darkness that trapped her in fear, and the bullets of rain that beat at her face; she could still feel all of it.

As vividly as her imagination recreated the scene she knew so well, that was not the same scene today. Having become accustomed to the sight of the storm and its unwanted memories it brought along, it took her some time to realize that all was calm on the western front. That golden orb in the sky had but minutes before it would be called back below the horizon. The clouds parted in the wake of its rays, leaving the sky a rich orange. The water was clear and still like glass, holding its breath in anticipation of the setting sun.

Max only wished she could heave her soul out into the waters below to be washed through with the peace of the ocean. Guilt piled upon guilt as she weighed what this peaceful scene cost. Chloe Price was her world, and she traded her away because it was the right thing to do.  _If it's the right thing to do, why do I feel like shit?_

Holding up the scale in her mind, she could see the needle tip toward Arcadia Bay, but in the background she could hear her conscience screaming for Chloe, the girl whose life had been kicked around and shit on by destiny itself. Had she really made the right choice in saving the town? Was it really worth Chloe? A pang of guilt struck her as she was confronted with her own selfishness. She recalled the famous words of Mr. Spock, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."  _Fuck you, Spock. They saved you in the next movie anyway._

She looked down at the envelope in her hand. In it was the picture of the blue butterfly and a note. She carefully removed the picture of the blue butterfly. For the briefest of moments it called out to her, and she could see the colors blurring together, about to pull her in. She closed her eyes and turned away, blinking away a tear as she did so. She made this choice, and she knew she had to bear its consequences.

She knelt down in the dirt and used her hands to scoop out a small mound of dirt. A nearby stick helped her with the task, and after a short time she had a small hole in the ground. She took one last look at the picture before sliding it back into the envelope. She sealed it and dropped it into the hole, covering it with the mound of dirt. The mound was loosely packed and she got up to brush the dirt off her hands.

As she got up, footsteps crunched in the dirt behind her. She turned around and saw Warren slowly approaching up the hill. He paused when he saw her turn around. When Max smiled and confirmed his presence, he continued his approach. He took his place next to her wordlessly, looking out at the same sunset.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I think we should get going," he said apologetically.

"It's fine," Max said softly. "Thanks for driving me here, by the way," she added.

"Of course." Warren glanced down at the small mound of dirt next to their feet. "Did you do what you wanted to do?"

"Kind of," Max replied after a thoughtful pause.

Warren nodded. "That's good. Um, I'll be waiting in the car, 'kay?" He took one last glance at Max staring at the horizon before retreating down the hill to his car.

What she wanted to do? No, she only did what she  _needed_  to do.

* * *

For the past few days, everything that everyone had said in their attempts to comfort her had fallen on deaf ears. Their condolences were hollow and in bitterness she disdained them. The constant bombardment finally pushed Max to a breaking point where she shut out the noise of the world, the world for which she made the ultimate sacrifice. In the short week she had spent traversing the timelines, she and Chloe had become even more inseparable than before. Their bond surpassed the fabric of reality and was the one thing Max could count on. They were partners in time and in crime, and she gave her up to die because the universe demanded payment. She traded her best friend for a town who would never understand or appreciate her sacrifice.

When Joyce and David asked Max to give a small tribute for the memorial, Max felt a different type of sorrow fall upon her shoulders. Though she and Chloe had reconciled for her five year absence over the past week, that week didn't exist anymore. During that week Joyce and David had seen the two girls reunite and share laughs like old times, but in this world they never had any of that. The horrible realization set in as Max finally understood that Joyce and David had asked her to speak not for the last week of life they had shared together, but for the five years of absence she had caused.

Joyce saw firsthand the pain Chloe went through when William died, and she saw firsthand how Max left for Seattle. Granted, it wasn't her fault, but to Max it sure felt like her fault. She had tried to fix all of this by saving her with the rewind and spending the week together, but that was a different history that wasn't reality here. Nightmare Max was right; she only used her rewind to manipulate people into liking her, or in Chloe's case, forgiving her.

A flash of blue caught her eye. It was a blue butterfly, and she could've sworn it was the same one she saw in the bathroom, or at least the same species. It fluttered in the air, circling the casket before gently descending onto its polished surface. A wistful smile spread slowly across her face.

Next to her, Warren nudged her shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie. While lost in thought, Max didn't even notice the priest holding out his hand to her, or everyone turning their eyes to her expectantly.  _Oh shit, it's my turn for the eulogy!_  Max walked forward sheepishly, fumbling around in her bag for the notes she had written. She hated making a scene, especially now. By the time she got to the front of the casket, her hands were shaking with adrenaline. Though it was just a funeral, the crowd felt like a jury, and the service was her trial.

A small voice spoke into her head.  _"You left her to suffer alone for five years. What are you doing speaking at her funeral?"_

Another voice, louder this time.  _"You had the power of the gods and you still sacrificed your friend. What a waste."_

She looked down at the notes in her hand and tried to make out her writing, but her tears in her eyes blurred together all of the letters. A single drop fell onto the paper and smudged the ink. She sniffled, wiping her tears with the palm of her hand. Her mouth opened as she tried to speak but only a hoarse croak came out. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her mouth slowly, trying to calm herself and dispel the nervous rock that sat in her stomach. She cleared her throat and tried her best to steady her shaking voice.

"Chloe and I...both grew up together here, in Arcadia Bay. We were uh...childhood...friends." she looked around nervously, pausing in between all her words, trying to not choke up on her words. As she saw the faces of her classmates and Chloe's family, a few of them flashed her understanding smiles. Max looked down at her notes again, reading through them in her head.

The note said everything she wanted to say, but at the same time told absolutely nothing at all. They were friends, they grew up here and played pirates, they raced each other up and down the lighthouse steps,  _blah blah blah_. For Pete's sake, Joyce knew their antics growing up and she could've told the exact same stories. But was Max supposed to say? She couldn't tell everyone about the nonexistent week they had, struggling through the mysterious disappearance of Rachel or overcoming life and death situations. To the world, she had to play the part of the childhood friend who regrettably failed to keep in contact for five years and wished she had more time before her untimely passing. As much as she wanted to tell the world exactly what Chloe Price meant to her, she had to bury all of that deep down inside her, in the spot right next to her knowledge of Chloe's sacrifice. This was a consequence she hadn't anticipated.

She crumpled the note into a ball that she pressed deep into her fist. She dropped the wad of paper at her feet where it rested in the grass.  _Improv._ _Here goes._

"My biggest regret was probably not staying around after William, her biological father, passed away when she was fourteen. I felt like a terrible friend and I blamed myself for everything that happened. And honestly...I am a terrible friend. And I don't deserve to be here when she has such better friends than I ever was."

Through tears she scanned the blurred faces of the crowd, and she steeled her resolve and decided to tell them everything. She was going to sound crazy.  _But t_ _hey needed to know her sacrifice._

She continued shakily. "When she came back to me this week... and when I prevented her death in the bathroom, it's like the universe was giving me another shot. It was a second chance to fix things and make amends for what I did in leaving her. But the universe had other plans and I couldn't keep prolonging her death forever. When I saved her, I caused a storm that would've wiped out the whole town. Chloe sacrificed herself so that this town would be safe, and I know she wouldn't want me to say that, but it's the truth."

The faces in the crowd were now completely blurred out, and Max wiped her eyes once more. She was surprised to see that she wasn't crying any longer and her tears were gone, but the faces were still blurred as if she was looking through frosted glass. She blinked hard, in case something was stuck in her eye, but everything was still blurred. She looked down and in shock saw the note in her hands again, instead of lying in the grass at her feet. The note was crisp and not crumpled in a wad.  _What the hell?_

As she looked up, the somber faces of the crowd came back into focus. Joyce was still clutching onto David. Warren had his hands stuffed into his pockets. Had they not just heard what she said about saving Chloe and later sacrificing her? Didn't they hear her talk about the apocalyptic storm? No one was reacting to her crazy story at all. That, or they were just being polite in tolerating the ramblings of a distraught friend.

She shook off the confusion and continued. "I miss Chloe more than I thought was possible to miss anyone. And I'll forever be in debt to her for her sacrifice."

Some confused looks spread amongst the crowd, but most of them were busy avoiding eye contact and staring at the grass swaying in the breeze. Max slowly walked back to her spot next to Warren as various people began to walk past the casket, laying flowers on its surface. As she followed the line of people, she passed by a second tombstone.  _William Price, beloved husband and father._  Chloe was to be buried next to William. Filled with self-loathing, she willed the flower in her hand to combust into flames and burn into her skin, so that the temporary pain would distract her from the realization that her abilities had indirectly killed both Joyce's husband and daughter. By thinking about it, she could almost feel the heat radiating from the stem of the flower. When she finally walked up to place the flower on the casket, the sensation didn't pass.

After wishing condolences and saying goodbyes, Max and Warren walked down the hill towards the cemetery parking lot. Once in the car, Max leaned her head back against the headrest and shut her eyes to the world. Warren alternated from looking ahead at the road and glancing back at Max, unsure of what to say. When Max finally opened her eyes, he broke the silence.

"Um...it was a good tribute. Short and sweet," Warren said hesitantly. "It was nice."

"Short?" Max asked, confused.  _Short? That's all he had to say after hearing about the storm?_

"It's okay if you didn't want to say more. It's understandable," Warren reassured her.

Max's eyebrows furrowed in further confusion. "What? No, that's not..." she trailed off. Maybe no one heard her. She probably would've sounded crazy anywhere. She dropped the subject.

"Back to Blackwell? Or do you need food first?" Warren asked, realizing that Max probably wasn't too comfortable with the subject at hand.

"Yeah. I mean Blackwell, not food. I'm not hungry."

"Making it so," Warren acknowledged in his best Patrick Stewart impression.

* * *

_One week later_

Wind whipped and screamed through the trees like an angry phantom bent on revenge. The constant sting of the cold air in her eyes was punctuated by the occasional grain of dirt or sand that was kicked up in her face. She held up a hand to brace herself against the wind but to no avail. The twister was unfathomably enormous. Like toys, it tossed cars and boats up into the air and scattered them across the coast. The lighthouse creaked and swayed at the top of the hill. The twister was getting closer.

A gunshot pierced through the din caused by the twister and Max whirled around to see where it came from. Nathan Prescott was on his knees, hands over his head with a gun in his right. He was trembling fiercely. At the ground before him lay a blue haired tattooed ripped-jeans punk rocker that Max knew all too well.

_No...this is wrong._

"Nathan!" she let out in a blood curdling scream.

She ran over to Chloe's body and kicked the gun out of Nathan's hand, pushing him over. Blood pooled on the ground and the gun landed in it. She looked down and she knew it was too late. The girl who could control time was too late.

"Oh, shit...shit...Chloe!" she knelt down and put a hand over the wound on Chloe's stomach. Warm liquid seeped through her fingers too quickly. She tried to shake her awake but she lay still. Rain and tears poured down her face. Mind and heart clashed as Max feebly attempted to resuscitate her despite her knowing that she was long gone and this was just a dream.  _A nightmare,_  she corrected herself.

"You ruined everything," she ground out through clenched teeth as she reached for the gun on the ground. The metal was ice cold in her hand. Sticky redness glued her finger to the trigger as blood dripped slowly off of the drenched weapon. Max wasn't even sure if she knew how to operate the complex semi-automatic handgun, but she would do her damnedest to try. She pointed at Nathan's cowering figure and squeezed the trigger, anticipating the explosion of a bullet.

_Knock knock._

"Max!"

Bright light flooded her vision and she woke suddenly. In a panic she sat up and threw off her blankets violently. She gasped for breath as she tried to get her heart rate under control.  _What day was it?_ Her mind was still foggy from the vivid dream. She pinched herself to make sure she was awake and not in some terrible dreamscape like the one she had journeyed through before making her decision to sacrifice Chloe. A quick glance out the window toward the clear horizon confirmed that she was indeed awake.

_Saturday._

Groaning, she flopped backwards onto her bed and ran a hand through her messy hair. Despite her early to bed, late to rise schedule, she was feeling more exhausted now than ever. Thank goodness for the weekend. She rubbed her eyes. The nightmares were taking a toll on her body. She recalled her high school biology lectures about sleep and could vaguely remember something the teacher said about REM sleep and its regenerative properties. If she didn't dream, she could sleep yet still feel tired the next day.  _Apnea_? Something like that. Self diagnosis seemed silly to her but from her constantly drained state, the possibility didn't seem too far fetched.

"Max! Are you awake?"

_Warren._  For all his quirks and general goofiness, he really was a kind soul. For the past week he had been in and out of contact with Max, not because of his negligence but out of regard for Max's personal space. Some days there wouldn't be a break in their interaction. On others, Max would quietly request to be left alone for the day. He graciously obliged and was never more than a text away. Despite this, Max wasn't sure if she wanted to further contemplate the extent of their relationship. There was simply too much going on for her to think objectively.

_Knock knock knock._

"Ma-"

"I'm awake." she replied quickly.

"Oh, hi," Warren said sheepishly, detecting the sight annoyance in her response. "Can I come in?"

Max did a quick once-over of her room to make sure nothing was egregiously out of place. "Yeah, come in."

The door knob rattled but didn't budge. "Uh, it looks like it's locked," came the voice on the other side.

_Damn._

"Oh, sorry. Give me a second."

Max swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up. She rubbed her temples in a futile attempt to dispel the headache that was creeping from the back of her head to the front. The door opened and Warren was greeted with a face that was a combination of  _"I just got up so what do you want?"_ and  _"I'm sorry for sounding like an ass."_

"Um, hey."

"G'morning," Max managed.

"Technically afternoon," Warren offered cheekily. "It's actually 2PM."

"Really?" Max peeked over his shoulder and saw a few students returning, going to their rooms, and other various doorway conversations. She looked back at her room clock and saw that it indeed was 2PM. She realized she sounded a lot crankier than she would have liked to sound. She tried to tone it down. "Sorry, I just-"

"No worries," Warren shook his head. "I was just wondering if you were sick because you didn't show up for class today."

"Class? Shit, I thought it was Saturday..."

"It  _was_  Saturday. I mean like two days ago. I'm sure it's fine. Just email the teachers and tell them you were sick. They should cut you loose. It's school policy for that kind of stuff."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Warren."

"No problem, Max. Are you really feeling okay?"

Max had to catch herself before responding. Of course she wasn't feeling okay. But did she let Warren know that? He was always asking if she was fine and she always gave the same answer. Why should it be any different now?

"I'm doing fine, Warren. Thanks for asking."

"Mhm..."

Warren wasn't convinced. His posture shifted, his head tilted to the side sightly. He was sizing up her fib. And his change in stance was obvious enough to tell Max that he didn't believe her, without outright saying so.

He jerked a thumb toward the door at the end of the hall and scratched the back of his head. "Well I've got one more class, so I guess... I'll see you around?"

"Yeah. See you," she replied unsure of herself. Warren could sense that she wasn't telling him everything and this slowed him in his tracks for a brief moment. But when he saw that Max wasn't going to let on any more than she already had, he continued down the hallway.

Max watched his retreating figure illuminated by the streams of the afternoon glow let in through the windows. She gently rested her head against the door frame and rolled her eyes at herself.  _He cares about you! Go talk to him!_ Maybe talking about the week would help these nightmares she was having so that she could finally sleep.

"Warren?" she called down the hall.

He spun around. "What's up?"

"I haven't eaten yet today. Do you want to get something to eat after your class?"

"Of course!" he replied. "Regular spot?"

"Regular spot," she confirmed.

_Do I tell him?_

* * *

Max and Warren sat across from each other in the booth at the diner. While the place contained many now-painful memories of Chloe, Warren had suggested that she frequent the restaurant with other people as to create new memories that would make the old ones less painful. So far, it hadn't changed much, but Max was willing to give it a try.

"Hey, can I say something?" Max began.

"Shoot."

"Look, I-" she paused as she gathered the rest of her thoughts.  _Here goes._ "It's been a crazy week and I just needed some space. I didn't mean to push you away."

The boy across the table shrugged. "It's alright. But I need to know, what's been going on with you? Your friend dies and then suddenly you start talking to Kate like you two have always been close? And all that stuff with Nathan and Jefferson getting arrested... and then the police found Rachel Amber's body! You didn't seem the least bit surprised by any of it. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Max took a deep breath. "I don't know how to say this and sound convincing, so I'll just tell you straight. I have the ability to rewind time."

She let the last sentence circle in the air, waiting for the control tower to give it clearance to land. Clearance came in the form of a single grunt.

Warren's eyes narrowed. "Hm."

"Now  _you_  don't look surprised."

"I didn't say that I _wasn't_  surprised," he ventured.

"But you are."

"I didn't  _say_  that," Warren said cautiously.

"God, do you believe me or not?" she snapped.

"Sure."

She glared at him. "Was that a sarcastic 'sure' or was that genuine?"

"Genuine."

"That wasn't too convincing."

Warren leaned back with his arms outstretched. "Who's supposed to be doing the convincing here? You're the one who can control time. Can you blame me for being skeptical?"

"You know why I wasn't surprised about Jefferson or Nathan? It's because I already spent the entire fucking week watching people around me die while uncovering their scheme. It was hell. I'm talking to Kate more because in another timeline she jumped off of a goddamn roof when I couldn't talk her down," she blurted unceremoniously.

Warren's jaw would have dropped through the floor at the part about Kate if it wasn't already attached to his face. "Jesus...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or anything," he stammered. "I believe you, Max."

"Thanks." She rubbed her temples again as that lingering headache reared its ugly maw. She was getting more irritable by the day, more prone to bursting out in fits of aggravation. She was starting to sound almost like Chloe.  _This really is affecting me a lot more than I'd care to admit._ "And I didn't mean to blow up at you like that either. It's just that I know how it seems. Like I'm going crazy or something."

"I get it. I don't think you're crazy, at least not like  _that_  kind of crazy."

"Jerk." Max punched him in the arm in mock offense.

"So you can control time, right? What's going to happen in the next two minutes?" Warren attempted to lighten the mood.

"It doesn't work like that. I have to live out the minutes first and then I get to rewind back in time. But I don't want to use my powers," she added.

"Why not? It sounds freaking awesome!"

"I just..." A blur outside caught Max's attention and her heart skipped a beat. She wasn't even sure what she saw and yet something felt weird, like a twisted deja vu. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at once and she shivered.

"Earth to Max?" Warren put his face into her field of vision. Max shook off the feeling and returned her attention to him.

Warren looked toward the window. "Was Bigfoot out there?"

"Yeah, you just missed him," Max returned absentmindedly.  _What the hell was that? Why do I feel weird?_

"Damn it," Warren groaned. "Sorry, you were saying something about why you don't use your totally awesome powers?"

"I don't know. Bad things happen when I use them."

"Bad things like what?"

Max turned to look out the window again. The orange hue of sunset painted the town as a peaceful utopia. The ocean was serene, swaying back and forth, barely churning any foam. And yet something set her on edge, an unmistakably sinister force that pressed in on her from all sides.  _Maybe I am going crazy_.

"Chloe."

"Chloe?"

Max paused.  _Fuck_ _._

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Unless being in your time-bending presence made me a telepath, yeah, you said that out loud," Warren said straight-faced.

"Look...this will sound crazy."

"Crazier than you being able to go back in time? I don't think anything can top that."

"Crazier."

"Well goddamn, I'm all ears." Warren folded his hands and leaned forward on the table.

"My powers started when I saw a vision of a storm, a massive storm that wiped out the whole town."

"How can one storm destroy a town?"

"It wasn't just a storm, it was a twister on the water, no more than a few hundred yards off the coast. It destroyed everything on the shore and coastline, then moved inland."

"Well, shit." Warren said bug-eyed.

"The first time I used my powers I prevented Chloe from being shot by Nathan."

"Whoa, you stopped a bullet? You're telekinetic too?" Warren exclaimed.

"No," Max laughed. "I just pulled the fire alarm as a distraction. After that, Chloe and I spent the week piecing together the mystery of Rachel's disappearance and Jefferson's Dark Room. Jefferson and Nathan were arrested, Chloe was alive, but at the end of everything the storm still came and was about to destroy the town."

"So at the funeral...when you mentioned her sacrifice..." Warren began.

Max nodded. "Yeah."

"So where did the storm come from?" Warren asked quizzically.

"I think my powers were linked to the storm. I was messing with fate too much and something drastic had to happen to reset everything. It came down to whether I wanted to sacrifice Arcadia Bay or undo my first decision to save Chloe."

"Undo your decision? You mean Chloe-"

Max tilted her head to the side in confusion. "I thought I mentioned it at the funeral. I thought people would think I was crazy, but no one seemed to care about the storm."

"If it's any consolation, I would've thought you were crazy and I would've flipped my shit if I heard you say that," Warren said with a grin.

"Maybe this is all in my head. God, I'm going crazy..." Max said, resting her head in her hands.

"Hey, you've been through some  _way_  crazy shit that would've made anyone else go insane. So if you go a little crazy, don't take it too hard," Warren offered blithely.

Max let out a short laugh before her face returned to its crestfallen state. "It's my fault," she said in a low voice. "But the town was saved and those two bastards are in jail, so I guess it was all worth it."

"You don't sound too certain," he observed.

Warren was a fast learner. He picked up on her uncertainty faster than she was able to for herself. Guilt prevented her from even considering that she was unhappy with the way things turned out. Her selfishness made her question if the town was worth her best friend's life. Was it the right decision? Was there even one to begin with?

"I ask myself every day if there was something more I could do, something I missed. Like what if saving Chloe didn't cause the storm? What if it was something else? But here I am, two weeks later, no Chloe and no storm. I don't want to lose any more than I already have by toying with my powers again. It's too much of a risk."

"I understand."

Max spun the glass between her hands as beads of condensation dripped off. The ice floating at the top danced back and forth, clinking against the walls.

"Thank you."

"What for?" Warren seemed surprised.

"Just listening, I guess. And believing me. I've seen so much shit this week it's getting hard to tell if I'm losing my mind or if this is actually happening. It's nice to have someone who believes me."

"Oh. Well you can count on me," Warren said enthusiastically. "It's too insane to  _not_  believe you. I mean like, who would make something up like that?"

_Maybe I am too insane._

"Let's go back."

"Ready when you are."

* * *

The car ride back was silent. The sun had nearly set and the last light of day receded behind the trees. A blue tinge came upon surface, replacing the warmer orange glow. Blue was Chloe's color and she was everywhere, in the sky, in the water, on the rocks that lined the highway. Following her conversation with Warren, Max felt suddenly overwhelmed by all that happened. Every nonsensical event had piled up, stopped by the dam that she had built to keep herself from exploding at everyone who offered condolences made of nothingness. No one would ever understand the hell she had been through. Warren had been the first to crack through that dam, and with that single crack the entire dam threatened to give way to a catastrophic meltdown.

They pulled into the parking lot and the engine ground to a halt. Warren walked her to her room. Max quickly opened the door but Warren stayed outside. As she turned back, she could see the expression in his face change. His usual boyish face marked with a mischievous grin was now replaced with worry. He was worried for her.

"You know I'm here for you, right, Max?"

"I know," she said quietly.

"Let me know if you need anything."

Max nodded and closed the door.

"Max!"

Her heart skipped a beat again as a sense of impeding danger crept into her bones. She turned around slowly towards the voice and braced herself like she was expecting a gunshot. But instead of a gunshot or some terrible evil presence, she was greeted with a beaming smile overjoyed to see her. Her bag dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

"Chloe?"


	2. Blood On My Hands

 

**Chapter 2 - Blood On My Hands**

* * *

"Max!" Chloe nearly tackled Max as she ran across the room to hug her. Max's eyes were wide with shock but she embraced her anyway. "I missed you so much."

"Ch-Chloe? How...? But you're-"

"I can't believe this is real! You're alive!" Chloe was overjoyed. "I thought I'd never see you again," she lamented sorrowfully. "Wait, you're real, right?"

"Yeah, of course I'm real," Max returned suspiciously. Her excitement was cut short as reality began to kick back in. _This was impossible._

"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening." Chloe was ecstatic, nearly jumping out of her own skin with glee.

"Chloe, wait." Max suddenly pushed Chloe back. Chloe's face was suddenly one of confusion. Max took a few steps backward until her shaky knees hit the edge of the bed. She shook her head and sat down.

What in the hell was happening?

"Chloe, I saw you die," said Max finally. "This isn't real. This is either a really good dream or I...I must be literally going crazy."

"This _is_  crazy. Crazy awesome!" Chloe laughed.  _God, she missed her laugh._  "Here, test me. I'll prove I'm real." She jumped onto the bed and sat cross legged right beside Max.

"No, I can't... I can't do this. You can't be real. I saw you die! In the bathroom, and Nathan-"

"Nathan had a gun, I know," Chloe's tone changed. She was softer now. "And he did try to kill me, but he..." Chloe trailed off.

"He what?"

Max looked into Chloe's eyes and for the first time was taken aback. Tears formed at the corners of Chloe's eyes, threatening to cascade over her face any moment. For the first time in a very long time, Max saw Chloe vulnerable, and she broke for her.

"What happened?" she asked, gently this time.

"He killed you instead."

_Holy shit._  "He cornered me with the gun but out of nowhere, you pushed me out of the way. He pointed at you and pulled the trigger and..." she hiccupped as the tears began to spill. "Why didn't I do anything? I was right there, I could've..."

"Chloe, no. Don't do this to yourself. I'm here now."

Max stretched an arm around her long lost friend as Chloe buried her face into her shoulder. Max could feel her shaking with each breath, her hiccups slowly dying down. Tears began to form in her own eyes and a single drop made a trail down her cheek.

"Tell me everything."

* * *

_October 7, 2013  
Monday_

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

Chloe tensed up and raised her hands as if to brace herself from the impact of a bullet. Chloe flinched at the loud clap of the gunshot that echoed off the hard tile enclosure that was the bathroom, but she felt nothing. She opened her eyes just barely enough to see what had happened when she felt someone leaning against her side. A girl. Chloe realized she was also pressed against the sink instead of where she used to stand in the doorway. The girl for some reason had pushed her. The girl at her side slowly backed away, stopping when she felt the wall behind her.

Nathan held the gun limply in his hand as he stared at Chloe blankly.

Chloe took the opportunity to throw a wild haymaker at Nathan's jaw. Her balled fist connecting squarely with the side of Nathan's face was one of the most satisfying sensations she had felt in a long time. A loud crack suggested that she may have even broken his jaw. The gun clattered to the floor as Nathan stumbled against a stall door, holding himself up on the outside wall.

Chloe turned to face her savior and was shocked by the face she saw. A name came to her.

_Max Caulfield._

"Max? What are you doing here?"

Max said nothing. She was visibly shaken by what had just happened and held out a hand. The hand was drenched in blood. Max smiled weakly and collapsed, sliding down the wall.

"Oh fuck."

Chloe reached out and barely caught Max as she fell forward, helping her ease into a sitting position on the floor. She balled up her jacket and frantically pressed it over the wound while she tried to console her childhood friend. "Hey, I've got you. Ah, fuck. Max? Can you hear me?"

Max was slumped against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her, hand on her stomach. Blood seeped through her shirt and into her jacket, spreading outward from the center like some sick piece of artwork. Above her was a thick streak of red that trailed halfway down the wall. Chloe noticed it and grimaced, realizing that the bullet had probably gone completely through her to make an exit would in her backside. She braced Max's neck with her own arm that she placed across her shoulders. Max's face lay buried in the crook of her arm.

"I couldn't...I couldn't let-" she could barely finish her sentence before she turned away to cough up a spray of blood. Chloe felt some of the spray on her hand and looked at the dying girl in horror.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nathan got up and ran for the door, taking a split second to look upon the atrocity he just committed.

"Shit...shit...shit." The light in her eyes was beginning to fade, and she was turning pale,  _fast_. "Help! Somebody help!" she screamed out.

"It's okay, Chloe. I did it," Max said in barely a whisper.

"What did you do?" Chloe was certain that Max was just delirious from blood loss.

"I... saved you. From Nathan... and the storm."

"Storm? What-?" Chloe shook her head.  _She's definitely losing it._

Max's eyelids began to flutter shut.

"No, no! Max! Hey! Wake up, Max, oh please, just wake up!" Chloe pleaded. "Don't leave me again! Max?"

Her fists balled up as she thought about Nathan. Everything had happened so quickly. The gun came out and she froze, but somehow Max had been there to push her out of the way, and then she got shot. What was Max doing there anyway? Her best friend who disappeared for five years suddenly comes back and gets shot on their first encounter. Chloe barely had time to process all of this, but she knew one thing for certain.  _That fucker is going to pay_.

The door burst open and David Madsen stood in the doorway at full alert. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw his stepdaughter, cradling another girl in a pool of blood.

"Chloe!" Noticing the blood, he realized he couldn't tell who was bleeding out. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"David, for fuck's sake, she's dying!" Chloe angrily cut him off.

David immediately dropped down to check on Max, feeling for a pulse. Chloe began to panic as David kept pressing different areas of her neck, even resorting to feeling her wrist. He held Max's eyelids open and checked for dilation, and hastily stood up. His phone was out in an instant and he dialed for paramedics.

"This is David Madsen, security at Blackwell Academy. I need an ambulance here, ASAP. A girl has been shot, I'm not getting any pulse..."

David's voice seemed to float away after Chloe heard he couldn't find a pulse. Desperately, Chloe tried to find a pulse as well, pressing her bloodied fingers to the side of Max's neck. Her whole body was shaking with adrenaline and she couldn't tell if the rapid rhythm was her own heart or Max's. Fear welled up and began to replace her rage, and she almost shed a tear. But she held back,  _not in front of David,_  she told herself.

"Chloe, what happened?"

"It was Nathan Prescott. He shot her." Chloe tried to steady her voice.

"Damn it! I knew that Prescott bastard was up to no good."

"Miss, we need to take her to the hospital, I need you to let go of her."

A paramedic was crouching beside her trying to lift Max's body into a stretcher. In her daze, Chloe didn't even notice the paramedics walk into the bathroom and wheel in the stretcher. She also didn't notice how she subconsciously grabbed onto Max's arm and was fighting the grip of the paramedics. She relented when she realized what was happening.

The paramedics moved around but Chloe was barely processing any of their movements. Their conversations blurred together and faded into an incomprehensible mumble. The whole thing felt so surreal.

"Get her on the stretcher."

"Lift on three. One, two..."

"Okay, I've got a weak pulse, blood pressure 80/60 and dropping."

"Heavy blood loss."

"Tell surgery to prep for a female, 18, gunshot wound to the abdomen with exit wound in the back."

"Chloe, no!" David grabbed her arm.

They were in the parking lot of Blackwell, right behind the ambulance. The gurney lifted and slid into the back, and paramedics climbed in after her. Chloe was reaching out like a zombie, trying to follow Max into the ambulance, but David stopped her.

"Let go of me! I have to-"

"Please, Chloe! Stay here! I need to find Nathan. If you're right, he's still out there and dangerous."

"I don't give a fuck about Nathan!" she cried out. She said it more as a knee-jerk reaction, but she realized it was true. In a life shaped by bitterness and anger, she finally had someone else to worry about.

The ambulance sirens blared to life as it began to leave the school.

"There's no  _way_  I'm staying here," Chloe shouted back. She twisted her arm and jerked it out of David's grasp and ran. She ran as fast as she could, all the way to her truck. Wind stung her eyes as tears finally fell. She jumped in and the vehicle peeled out of the school driveway, following the ambulance closely behind. From her rear view mirror she could see David with his hand on his forehead in exasperation. With hardened resolve, she focused on the road ahead. To lose the ambulance was to lose her friend.

Through red lights and illegal U-turns she followed the ambulance, having more than several close calls where she almost crashed from following too closely. Her traffic fines would be hell to pay, but the cost of losing her friend would be more. After all, Max had given her life to save her. How could traffic violations possibly compare?

After what felt like the most agonizing 5 miles of her life, they finally pulled up to the county hospital. She screeched to a halt right behind the ambulance as the paramedics jumped out of the back. If it was possible, Max looked even worse than before. An oxygen mask was strapped to her face and her arm hung limply off the gurney. It rattled in through the front doors and Chloe followed closely behind.

"Max! Talk to me!" Chloe pleaded. Even though she knew Max probably couldn't hear her, much less respond to her.

"Is she going to be okay?" she asked none of the paramedics in particular.

"I can't tell you anything yet. We need to get her into surgery,  _now._ "

"Miss, I'm sorry but you can't come in here."

They were in front of the doors to the ER. By this point Chloe was too drained to put up more of a fight. Despite her rash behavior she understood this was the furthest she could follow. She nodded slowly as the doors swung shut. Chloe could still hear the faint rattle of the wheels as they disappeared further down the hall. A sob came up but she repressed it, where it remained painfully in her throat. Her back rested against the wall and she felt it, a subconscious effort to make sure it was still there and wouldn't give way. She looked down at her outstretched hands and saw the dried blood caked on her hands.

It wasn't until she got to the bathroom did she finally release the tears she worked so hard to suppress. She slammed her fist onto the sink handle. A small trickle of water came out.  _Damn hippies and their water-conserving faucet heads._  Her fingers worked vigorously, trying to scrub the dried blood off of her hands. The runoff in the sink turned a sickly reddish brown, as Max's blood ran through her fingers. The water shut off before she was done, and she slammed down on the handle angrily. The trickle came back on, and she repeated this until her hands were finally clean. She looked up at her reflection, and her eyes were red and puffy. A splash of cool water on her face was a welcome respite, and she grabbed a towel to dry herself off.

When she finally came out of the restroom, she found Joyce waiting in the lobby. Joyce ran over to her and hugged her without a word. She pressed her face into Joyce's shoulder but did her best not to cry. David was probably looking for Nathan at the school. She would have preferred it this way, so that David couldn't see her at one of her weakest of moments. At the same time, part of Chloe still didn't want David to get hurt if Nathan was still armed, no matter how much she hated David.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Joyce said finally.

"I hope she is too," Chloe whispered.

"David told me to find you here, and I was worried because I thought he meant something happened to you," Joyce explained.

"No, nothing happened to me," she reassured her mother. But something _did_  happen. She was almost shot, and Max took the hit for her. But she didn't want her parents to know, especially not Joyce. No need to worry them any more than they already were.

"I called Max's parents and they're catching the next flight out of Seattle. I'm going to pick them up at the airport. Are you okay here by yourself?"

"I'll be fine."

She held her arms out for an embrace, and Chloe accepted once more. "I love you," Joyce reminded her.

"God, mom, I'm fine. Don't get too mushy on me," said Chloe, half serious.

Joyce gave her a disappointed look as she left through the front doors of the hospital. Right before they closed, Chloe muttered to herself, "Love you too."

She paced in the hallway outside the ER, alternating between running a hand through her hair and resting them on her hips. Waiting made her restless. An eternity and a half later, a nurse carrying a clipboard came through the doorway.

"Is she okay?" Chloe asked immediately.

The nurse put a hand on her shoulder. "Where are her parents?" she asked.

"They're in Seattle," Chloe explained. "They're catching a plane right now and should be here in the next few hours. What about Max? Is she okay?"

"She's alive and her vitals are steady, but she's unconscious and non-responsive. She's in pretty bad condition so we're going to have to keep a close watch on her."

"Non-responsive?" Chloe asked worriedly.

"We think that it's her body's shock response to her sudden blood loss. She should regain consciousness in a few days at most. The important thing is that she's alive."

"Thank you." Chloe never felt so genuine about thanking someone before in her life. The nurse was right: the important thing was that Max is alive.

"We can call you as soon as she's conscious, if you'd like," the nurse offered.

"I think I'll stay here," she responded instead.

"Are you sure? It could be days before she wakes up. Don't you have school to attend?" the nurse asked.

"Nah," Chloe said flatly. "Where's her room?"

"Down that hall, first door on the right."

Chloe nearly knocked the nurse over as she ran towards the room. She opened the door slowly, as if to not wake her. To her sadness she realized that waking Max would take much more than a squeaky door. She lay in the cot, hooked up to an IV and heart monitor. If it wasn't for the steady beep of the monitor, she would have thought the girl was dead.

"Oh, Max..." she sighed sadly. In the cot she looked so weak and frail, nothing like the girl who pushed her out of the path of a bullet. Why did she do that, anyway? And how?  _She's going to have a lot of explaining to do._

Chloe pulled up a chair beside Max and looked around for something to do. She hated celebrity gossip magazines with a fiery passion, but if she was going to stay here for the next few days, she needed something to entertain herself with. If she was going to mope about her own shitty life, maybe reading up on someone else's shitty life would make her feel better.  _This is a new low, even for me. And that's saying something._  And before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

* * *

A light tap on her shoulder woke her. She was disoriented and groggy, and she looked around at her surroundings.  _I'm in the hospital._  The window outside was completely black.  _Nighttime_. The same nurse was tapping her shoulder, much to her chagrin. Chloe looked down and realized she had fallen asleep slumped over onto Max's bed. She groaned as she rubbed her eyes and stretched awake.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but visiting hours are over. It's midnight right now. You can come back tomorrow mooring."

Chloe nodded as she yawned and stretched some more. She got up to leave the room, looking back at Max's still figure once more before finally closing the door.

As she walked into the parking lot she realized she never moved her truck from in front of the hospital, definitely where it shouldn't have been.  _Fuck! I hope it didn't get ticketed... or worse, towed..._ And to her surprise the truck was parked nicely in a regular space. She realized that Joyce must have moved it when she dropped by to check on her. Despite her no-nonsense attitude towards much of her daughter's antics, she cared for Chloe and watched out for her more than Chloe realized. She sleepily climbed into the truck and started the engine, yawning for a third time.  _Driving like this is probably a bad idea._ She shrugged to herself and pulled out of the driveway, headed home.

* * *

_October 8, 2013  
Tuesday_

_Ring ring. Ring ring._

Chloe could hear the phone ring but barely wanted to pull herself out of bed. The phone continued ringing and all she did was cover her ears with her pillow. After the crazy day nearly getting shot, chasing an ambulance, and waiting for her friend to wake, she was completely exhausted. To her surprise, her mom hadn't come upstairs to wake her like she normally did, dragging her out of bed to do something productive with her laid back life. In fact, both her parents seemed to forget that their daughter was a smoking carefree high school drop out. Maybe it was her close encounter with death that made them thankful she was even alive. In any case, she could almost stand them now. Just almost.

Chloe realized that Max's parents must have visited with Joyce yesterday after they came in from the airport, yet she was passed out on Max's bed the entire time. That meant they saw her slumped over that god-awful gossip magazine and might have not even recognized her with her new crazy hair and tattoos. What a second impression.  _Fuck! I'm a terrible friend to their daughter. I wasn't even awake when they came._

The ringing finally stopped and Chloe rejoiced inwardly. Then the answering machine clicked on. The voice was muffled but still distinguishable.

"Hi, this is Wendy from the county hospital. Just calling to let you know that Maxine Caulfield has regained consciousness. If you'd like to visit-"

Chloe threw the sheets off her bed and scrambled together an outfit faster than she would have hid her weed hearing David coming up the stairs. Tank top, check. Dark torn jeans, check. Beanie, check. Last but not least was her bullet necklace that hung off her nightstand. Looking at herself in the mirror she realized that Max could barely have recognized her. The last time they were together she still had her natural hair color, and about a dozen fewer tattoos. She considered toning down the hardcore punk rocker look of her outfit, but decided against it.  _Give her more credit than that._  Max still recognized her enough to save her. Chloe ran downstairs, hopped in her truck, and sped off.


	3. Set Out and Never Returned

 

**Chapter 3 - Set Out and Never Returned**

* * *

_Ugh_. She looked at her reflection in the glass window and summed up her entire appearance in a single utterance. Not counting yesterday, this would be the first time in 5 years she would finally get to see Max. Were they really first impressions anymore if you used to be best friends? High school years change people so much that Chloe thought they ought to be. So much has happened to both of them, and their transformation is reflected on their very skin. For her, a hardcore punk rock transformation. A badass band-sporting tank top, torn jeans, and a beanie, not to mention her tattoos and wildly artificially colored hair. How on earth did Max recognize her?

And how are you supposed to dress when visiting a friend who took a gunshot for you after not talking for 5 years and partially hating her guts for leaving you in your state of emotional distress caused by the death of your adored father who was replaced by a strict asshat with a controlling streak and no regard for privacy whom your mother then remarried?

_Ugh._

"Relax, she's just your friend," she told herself. "Say hi, make small talk, then ask what the hell she was doing mixed up with Prissycott."

She placed a hand on the doorknob and paused. "Maybe wish her a speedy recovery before grilling her about the weird shit she said about saving me."

The door swung open and Chloe stood in the doorway, small talk topics at the ready. Her bold entrance was somewhat stifled when she saw Max's parents standing by her bedside, talking with her. They turned around when they heard her walk in, and she put her hands in her pockets sheepishly.

"Um, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield," she said, trying to sound as normal as possible. Crap.

"Chloe?" Vanessa said hesitantly. "Chloe Price?"

"Yeah, that's me," Chloe said with forced enthusiasm. She raised nervous eyebrows at Max, who grinned understandingly.

"Oh my! I almost didn't recognize you!" Max's mom said, trying to not sound too shocked by her sudden appearance. She moved to offer Chloe a hug. "Joyce told me you'd be here."

"Well, here I am," she said with a small chuckle.

"Oh! I should leave you two the room," Vanessa said. "Thank you so much for stopping by to visit, Chloe. It means a lot, really."

"Anything for an old friend," Chloe smiled back.

Ryan and Vanessa left the room. An awkward tension hung between the two girls in the form of unansked questions and their respective 5-year transformations. Chloe knew that between the two of them she was definitely the more outgoing personality, but she definitely did not want that burden of being the first to talk. How did she even start this conversation?  _Hi Max, thanks for taking that bullet for me. And also, what the shit is happening?_

"Hi," Max said finally with bated breath.

"Hey," returned Chloe.

Max broke into a smile that she seemed could not hold in any longer. With that, the rest of Chloe's uneasiness went out the window. She ran over to her friend and hugged her in bed.

"I've missed you so much after this week," Max said without realizing the implications of her statement. Chloe froze and broke away from the hug, standing back a bit.

"After this week?" Chloe asked dubiously.

"Sorry," Max put a hand on her face and shook her head in embarrassment. "Painkillers are making my head go fuzzy."

"I'll bet," Chloe said with suspicion.  _There she goes again_. Chloe nodded towards the IV drip. "What are you on?"

"Codine, I think it's called. The bullet passed really close to my spine and went out the back, so it hurts to sit upright."

"Goddamn, dude. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty shitty," Max said matter of factly. "When the codine kicks in, I feel fine, but the antibiotics make me feel sick."

"I know what you mean," she said absentmindedly. "Ever try weed for your pain?" she asked mischievously.

"Chloe!" Max said in surprise.

"I'm joking!" Chloe laughed. In a more serious tone she added, "But if you really want to, we can light up after we break you out of this place."

"I can barely sit up! And I'm not 'breaking out' of here anyway, it's just a hospital."

"Aww, come on!" Chloe jumped over onto the edge of the bed. "Whatever happened to Pirate Max and her adventurous spirit?"

Max grinned and shrugged. "Set out on the ocean 5 years ago and never returned?

"Sounds like it."

There were several cards propped up by a vase of flowers on her beside table.  _Blackwell friends_ , Chloe assumed. A small teddy bear wearing a hospital gown with hearts stood out from the rest of the cards and she picked it up. A small tag attached to the bear's foot read  _"Get well soon -Warren."_  She smirked as she held up the bear.

"Who's Mr. Teddy Bear?" she asked mischievously.

"He's just a friend," Max said as she blushed and rolled her eyes.

"Does he look as cute as you do when you're lying?"

"Very funny. But seriously, I need to tell you something."

"I get to go first. You pushed me out of the way of that bullet," Chloe interrupted. "Why?"

Max paused. "Because you're my friend."

It was such a simple response with the most basest of reasonings and yet it was completely unexpected. The girl who left her for Seattle 5 years ago when she was experiencing the worst pain she had ever felt in her life had come back and pushed her out of the path of a speeding bullet. Chloe was a lone vessel on the vast ocean of misfortune and Max had just jumped from the safety of shore into the seat next to her. Maybe she just wasn't used to piloting these seas with someone by her side.

"Chloe, this will be a lot easier for both of us if you just let me explain things."

"I'm listening."

* * *

Could Max conceivably have controlled time and foreseen Chloe's death? Possibly. Could she have used her powers to go back through time so that she already knew so much about Chloe's 5 years apart from her? It seemed likely. But where things really broke down for Chloe was when Rachel came into there picture. How did she know Rachel? And all these sick details about Nathan and that creepy teacher Jefferson and their  _totally fucked up_  father-son relationship?

And then Max told Chloe where to find Rachel's body. That was when Chloe stormed out of the hospital in a huff. Max tried convincing her to stay by claiming she "knew it would upset her and this would happen", but Chloe didn't care. Max was absolutely right. She was upset and Max was left helplessly in bed while she stormed off to who knows where.

Rachel and Frank?  _Fuck Frank!_  It totally wasn't like Rachel to even be near a creep like him. Rachel was too innocent and kind, and Frank was some washed up druggie who dressed like a punk and acted even worse. He was an irresponsible pathetic loser who fulfilled the trailer trash stereotype by actually living in a trailer.

Chloe froze in her train of thought.  _Am I like Frank?_  Was she so much more responsible than Frank? Was she less of a dropout who acted less like a punk?  _Did our similarities make it easier for Rachel to relate to him?_  The thought made her sick, even more sick than when Max told her about Rachel in the Dark Room.

_A few minutes ago_

"That all sounds... fucking insane."

"Chloe, please-"

"Rachel in love with... with Frank? And now she's dead?"

"I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"Yeah? Where did your powers come from then? Convince me you can see the future."

"I can't! I don't want to risk causing a storm again."

"Oh right, the storm. The Armageddon shitstorm tornado that's coming to destroy Arcadia Bay. You already changed things by saving my ass, so isn't that going to cause a storm?"

"Yes! It might! And then I'll have to rewind this entire week to decide whether or not to let you die, then try something new. Do you know how many times I've done that?"

"What..? I don't understand."

"Nineteen times. I have relived this entire week nineteen times choosing different things trying to save both you and Arcadia Bay, but it always has to come down to one. In the end, there is always only one. So believe me when I tell you that a storm is coming, because I've already seen it  _nineteen fucking times_."

"Max, I..."

"Please Chloe, I need some time to think."

_Present_

Chloe gripped the steering wheel tighter, recalling the heated argument. Destination: the junkyard. It was her favorite place to escape when all other places reminded her of the cruel realities of the world. After hearing everything from Max, she definitely needed to escape. Her windshield slowly became spotted with moisture and she squinted at the sky. The afternoon sun sent the temperature into the mid 70s.  _Rain?_  She clicked on her wipers and continued driving. As she looked out towards the hills, it started to look less like rain and more like...  _snow_?

When she pulled into the junkyard, the familiar smell of wet asphalt and rusted metal hit her nostrils. But it was slightly different this time. She held out her arms and tiny snowflakes descended upon her. It was just as cold and wet as snow, but surely it couldn't actually be snow.

_The storm_.

_No fucking way_. She was certain Max had to have been shitting her, but now she wasn't sure. Everything she told her was all too detailed to be made up, too precise to guess at. She got out of the truck and landed in the gravel, now wet with snowfall.  _This is weird_. As she approached her usual hideout, her body tensed. Reflecting off of some of the broken glass strewn about on the ground were red and blue lights that Chloe knew too well. Cops. But what were they doing here? As Chloe thought about the possibilities, her heart dropped into her stomach.

_Rachel._

She broke out into a jog, and then full on sprint as she ran towards the lights. She slid to a halt as the cruisers finally came into view. Caution tape blocked off a section of the junkyard where several police officers stood around a small hole in the ground. Around the hole lay a few shovels and construction overalls. A photographer stood off to the side, capturing details of the scene, while another person took notes down on a clipboard. Chloe knew exactly what was happening. They had found the body. After a while, the note taker and photographer nodded to the officers, who got other staff to reach down into the pit. Chloe turned away with a hand on her mouth as they lifted up the body. She couldn't stand to be here any longer. The junkyard used to be a symbol of her escape from reality, but the discovery of Rachel's body would forever taint its image in her mind. Her knees felt weak and her stomach queasy. This would be the last time she visited.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Chloe had her hands in her pockets again. Her jacket showed darker streaks of moisture, indicating rain or snow. She shifted from side to side, obviously uneasy. Max shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. Funny weather we're having, huh?" she said absentmindedly.

"That storm is coming, isn't it? What you said is all real?"

"I guess it is."

"Does that mean..."

"Yeah," Max said softly.

Silence hung between them as they both understood what was about to happen. Saving Chloe had still caused the inevitable storm, which would cause Max to rewind to the beginning and relive the entire week all over again. Her efforts in sacrificing herself had been for nothing.

"Look Max, I'm sorry. For everything, not just not believing you. I think I blamed you a lot for how I felt all those 5 years but it was my fault for not talking to you first. I never gave you the chance to help me." Chloe smirked to herself. "What am I saying? You've probably heard me apologize a hundred times already."

"I'm just as much to blame. I was a terrible friend for leaving you in the first place."

"What matters is that you're a great friend now. Can you let me know before you rewind?"

"Of course. Not that it'll make a difference in what you experience. You won't remember anything after I do it."

"Damn. It must suck to have to explain this to me over and over, huh?"

"Explaining this to you is the easy part, actually."

"Really? So when you said you knew I would storm out, you weren't kidding."

"Nope."

Chloe laughed. "That's pretty insane."

"It is."

Chloe pulled up a nearby chair and straddled it, resting her arms on the back. "You were right, you know. They found Rachel's body in the junkyard."

"You saw?"

"Yeah...I got there right as they were pulling her out."

"I'm so sorry. I was hoping you would believe me so that you wouldn't have to see for yourself."

"I know. I don't think I can go back to the junkyard again, though."

"The police are going to arrest Nathan tomorrow morning at school. In a few days they'll have enough evidence to link him to Jefferson, then arrest him too. Chloe... I'm asking you to please not go after Nathan. I know you're hurting right now but only bad things will come if you try."

"But things are different now, right? What if everything you changed somehow prevented Nathan's arrest?"Chloe asked.

"When the cops find Rachel's body, they always tie it back to Nathan. But you're right, maybe something else will be different. I can't tell. I'm trying to see if barely using my powers will result in a smaller storm. Maybe it'll just bring some bad rain or something."

"It started snowing already. What's next?"

"Usually a ton of animals will start dying. Birds, fish, whales will wash up on shore... and then the unscheduled eclipse. Last of all there will be two moons in the sky."

Chloe whistled. "Two moons? Holy shit that's insane! How is that even possible?"

"I had a theory... maybe it's all the timelines physically collapsing on each other because I've jumped between them too much. But I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine. What do you think?"

Chloe shrugged. "I have less of an idea of what you're talking about, so no thank you."

Max decided to change the subject. "Hey, how does breaking me out tomorrow sound?"

Chloe stood up and put a hand on her chest dramatically. "Me? Breaking you out? Why, Maxine! I thought you'd never ask."

Max grimaced at hearing her full name. "Ew, just Max. Never Maxine."

"Seriously? You want me to break you out?"

"The doctors said they wanted to try having me walk around tomorrow morning, so if all goes well... pick me up at 12?"

Chloe took a bow. "I'll be your loyal chauffeur and companion."

"Usually you say that after I save you from being hit by a train."

"Well I'm still your Chloe, no matter the timeline. I'm bound to say something you've heard before. Or... will knowing that make me think twice about what I say and therefore change what I actually say? Does it even matter? Trippy if you think too hard."

"Totally, right? And I don't mean to disappoint you, but my parents went out to get me food and they're coming back to have dinner with me."

"You mean I have to wait until tomorrow to get you to myself? You're no fun," Chloe pouted.

"Tomorrow!" she reassured the other girl. "We can go out and wreak havoc on this town."

Chloe smirked. "Hopefully the Armageddon tornado saves some stuff for us to lay to shit. It would be a complete bummer if there was nothing left."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then, Super Max."

"You said that before too."

"Dammit!"

* * *

_Midnight_. The street was dark and quiet. Arcadia Bay really was a sleepy town. The sky was pitch black but clear, so stars overhead still shone. The parking lot lights were motion activated and had turned off some time ago after Chloe had parked her truck. She grabbed the rope she threw on the passenger seat and the backpack she threw on the rope. She hefted the rope in her hands and prayed it was enough to support her weight.

The lights in various patients' rooms helped guide her around the back of the hospital where she spotted Max's room. Luckily, she was only on the second floor, so she didn't need to bring as much rope with her. The window was still slightly opened at the bottom, but not enough for her to accurately throw the rope. She needed Max's help.

"Max! It's me!" she whispered. "Max!"

She waited for a response and finally Max stuck her head out of the window.

"Oh hey, it looks like you can move," Chloe said with slight surprise. "That makes this easier."

"Chloe? It's past midnight! I meant for you to come by at 12PM, not AM!" Max hissed.

"Oops?" Chloe said sarcastically. "Stand back. I need to throw something. Catch."

"You can't be cereal," Max said, her eyes widened at the sight of the rope. She knew what Chloe was going to do. Before she could protest, a knotted end of thick rope flew up to the second window, and Max yelped as she moved her head to dodge it. The rope fell back down to earth.

"Catch it, you sissy!" Chloe said in annoyance.

"This is so not going to work. Why can't you just walk in the front door like a normal person?"

"How else are we supposed to watch  _Blade Runner_  past visiting hours?" Chloe asked as if there were an obvious answer.

"You brought  _Blade Runner_?" She realized she sounded a lot more excited than she should be, considering her friend was about to scale a building and risk falling two stories in the attempt.

"And some more stuff, but just catch this rope first so that we can stop whispering at each other like idiots!" She flung the rope at the window a second time, but Max missed again, and the rope fell into a coil on the ground. Chloe groaned.

"Hang on, I brought a backup plan." Chloe dashed off towards the parking lot and came back with a long rake and a bundle of tent poles. She taped the poles to the rake and taped the rope to the end of the poles. The massive rake-tent pole-rope contraption swung dangerously in the air before coming to a rest on the edge of Max's window. She took the rope and dragged it inside, tying it to her bed frame. A thumbs up appeared outside the window and Chloe tugged on the rope to make sure it was steady.

"If I fall, just rewind and tell me that it won't work."

"It won't work!" Max said automatically.

"I know you're lying!" Chloe returned.

Her arms slipped through the backpack and adjusted it, making sure it was secured. One hand over the other, feet braced on the outside of the hospital, she began to climb. Don't look down, she kept telling herself. She kept expecting her grip to fail or the rope to give way, but neither happened. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as she strained at the rope. At the very top, Max was there to grab her hand, pulling her through the window and landing in a heap on the floor.

Out of breath, Chloe collapsed on the floor and leaned back on the wall, right next to Max who sat down next to her. Slight giggles from both turned into full blown laughter as they both realized the absurdity of what just happened.

"That. Was awesome," Chloe said after finally regaining her breath.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Max said while laughing.

"I'm crazy? Says the one who can bend time," Chloe countered.

"Touche." Max winced as she felt the area around her wound. Helping Chloe into the room made her side sore from all the pulling.

"Maybe we should've waited for tomorrow." Chloe noticed Max's discomfort.

"It's not too bad. The doctors did a good job of stitching me up. Help me up, though." Chloe helped Max climb back into the hospital bed.

"Alright, so I got the goods," Chloe said mischievously while opening her bag. " _Blade Runner_ ,  _Terminator_ , and the entire  _Back to the Future_  trilogy for good measure."

" _Terminator_? And  _Back to the Future_? Really?"

"We don't have to watch those if you want."

"I just think it's funny that you got movies on time travel."

"What can I say? It's been on my mind lately."

"Mine too."

Chloe grabbed the bedside table and swung it around to set up her laptop. Blade Runner went in first. Max shifted over and patted the space next to her, indicating for Chloe to sit with her. She jumped in and the two settled down.

"Feels like when we were kids," Chloe mused.

"For a time traveler you'd think I'd be used to all this nostalgia. Just don't fall asleep like when we were kids."

"Hey, don't worry about me."

"You know that I do."

The movie started and the two watched in silence. The oncoming storm constantly remained in the back of Chloe's mind, reminding her that her time with Max was short-lived unless Max found a way to change the past and save everyone. Questions flew by her incessantly. There were so many things she needed answers for, but for now, the silence was enough. Sitting with Max in front of a movie sent her back to the older days of Arcadia Bay when things were simpler and people made sense.

As Chloe watched the movie intently, sometimes she would catch Max staring at her, but would quickly look out the window as an excuse. Chloe laughed to herself in her head. She's so cute when she's being so obvious. She couldn't blame Max though. According to her, she had spent weeks trying to keep her alive. Thinking more about it made her sad. Max had to live out the week trying to save her friend and would fail time and time again, but Chloe wouldn't have any memory of it. Not remembering was probably the worst part.

Her mind drifted and she found herself falling asleep. Her body jolted subconsciously and Max snickered.

"You're falling asleep, huh?"

"Dude, cut me some slack," Chloe said drowsily. "It's been a long day."

Chloe shuffled around in bed, unable to find a comfortable position. She didn't understand how Max could be bedridden even for these few days. Then again, she always was a restless spirit.

"Stop moving! You would be a horrible bed partner," Max teased.

"Yeah?"

Chloe finally found a comfortable spot, resting her head on Max's shoulder. Chloe couldn't see it, but Max was grinning from ear to ear. Eventually Chloe fell asleep, and the movie ended. The lights from the computer running the main menu sequence bounced off the corners of the room and illuminated everything in a strange glow. The rhythm of Chloe's breathing was oddly soothing to Max. She stared blankly ahead, deep in thought. Her heart sank as she looked in the corner of the room at her camera bag with a folded note on top of it.  _It was time_.

* * *

_October 9, 2013  
_ _Wednesday_

Birds chirped, the sun shone orange, and as usual, Chloe was still asleep in bed. Max looked at the time and sighed. 8:15. She was supposed to start her rehab tests at 9. The worst part was that she had been awake the entire night. A part of her wondered if the doctors would care to find Chloe in her room. It wasn't that big of a deal. The bigger deal was her parents. She nudged Chloe awake.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up."

"What time is it? And Sleeping Beauty didn't have blue hair," Chloe protested through a yawn.

Max rolled her eyes. "Chloe, none of the Disney princesses had dyed blue hair."

"Lame."

"You should probably get up before your parents find out you've been gone all night."

"Shit...you're right. Just... five more minutes, 'kay?"

Chloe rolled over in bed and Max rolled her eyes again. She figured that Chloe would eventually get up if she just got up herself. Max forced herself out of bed and Chloe collapsed in the spot where Max used to lay. In any timeline Max ever visited, Chloe was never an early riser, or a normal riser for that matter. Sometimes she agreed with Joyce when Joyce would say something about "Gettin' that lazy ass of hers out of bed t' do somethin' productive with her life," but she didn't dare tell Chloe that.

"Chloe!"

"God!" she blurted out, throwing in a venomous " _mom_ ," for good measure. The laptop and movies all went into the bag, and the rope went out the window.

"No need to climb through the window again if I'm breaking you out today, right?" Chloe said with a smirk. "Good luck with whateverthehell tests you need to pass."

Chloe left through the front doors of the hospital. Since it was already past the start of visiting hours, no one batted an eye at the fact that she was leaving without first checking in in the morning. Around the back of the hospital she gathered the bundle of rope and the absurd rake-tent pole contraption. A gardener spotted her and flagged her down. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"Just trimming the hedge," Chloe replied nonchalantly before hopping into her truck and driving off.

* * *

Chloe pulled into the driveway of the Two Whales Diner. On her way in, she noticed Frank's RV parked outside. She took a deep breath as the possible conversations ran through her mind. After hearing everything from Max, she actually might not despise Frank as much as she used to. With the discovery of Rachel's body, he was probably hurting just as much as she was. Hopefully he wouldn't bring up her debt again.  _How much do I owe him? 3 grand? Sheesh, Chloe_.

Chloe scanned the diner, looking for Frank, but couldn't find him. She breathed a sigh of relief. That relief was short lived however, as Joyce came walking through the kitchen with a tray full of breakfast foods. She didn't notice Chloe at first, going directly to a table with a beaming smile of motherly hospitality. As she picked up the tray to return to the kitchen, her hawk-like eyes spotted her blue haired delinquent and she paused. She shook her head and returned to the back. Chloe scowled as soon as Joyce's back was turned. She returned a few moments later to the counter. She raised her eyebrows at Chloe.

"So? Where were ya' last night?"

"With Max at the hospital," Chloe said honestly. She didn't see a point in lying.

"You going around getting that girl into trouble?"

"Oh, come on. She was lonely! We haven't seen each other in five years."

"Hm," Joyce mused. "You should be letting her get rest. The poor thing got shot, after all."

"Your friend was the one who got shot?" a cop sitting at the diner bar asked. "Sorry, I don't mean to eavesdrop."

"News is news, and it'll get around eventually," Joyce dismissed his apology.

"If it's news you're looking for, it might interest you to know that we arrested the Prescott boy this morning."

"You did?" Chloe said a bit too enthusiastically.

"We always knew he was into some shady stuff, but the Prescotts are just too damn protected, you know what I mean? This incident gave us the leverage we needed to dig a hole and bury him. But don't go spreadin' that around, you know? I know news gets around, but in the interest of putting that Prescott boy away, I wouldn't tell nobody, you know? Anyway, tell your friend that all the guys down at the station are wishing her a speedy recovery, alright?"

"Will do," Chloe agreed. Max was right! Maybe it changed the exact timing of the arrest, but in the end it's all the same. After they question Nathan for a while, he'll probably crack, and then they can bag Jefferson too. This is insane! Everything is happening as Max predicted.

Joyce raised a cautious eyebrow at Chloe before pulling out a brown bag. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a plastic container with a whole plate of food inside. Chloe eyed it ravenously as her eye made out the shape of an omlette, pancakes, sausage, and bacon. Joyce took the container and stuffed it into the brown bag.

"Here, take this to Max. I know that the hospital food is no good for any person, dead or alive."

Chloe began to walk off, but Joyce clicked her tongue. "Ah ah, hold on. You think that just because you laze around all day smoking pot that I won't feed you?" Joyce went into the back once more and grabbed a second container, just as packed as the first. She placed that into the bag as well and handed it over to Chloe. She accepted gratefully.

"Now, quit standing there drooling. Don't make me deliver it to Max myself!"

Chloe stepped outside of the diner, doggie bag in hand. No more than a few yards from the entrance, Chloe heard a loud barking. Pompidou. The barking was followed by the sound of a trailer door thudding shut. Boots crunched on gravel as Frank Bowers descended from his RV. He immediately saw Chloe and folded his arms across his chest.

"You already know what I'm going to ask for, don't you?" he asked gruffly.

"Frank, not now." She glared at him.

"What the fuck does that mean, not now? Where's my money?" he said, growing increasingly agitated.

"I don't have it," Chloe growled.

"Well that's a problem, isn't it? What do you have on you?" he gestured towards the bag.

Chloe decided to be snarky. "A few kilos of coke."

"Don't  _fuck_  with me!" he yelled as he jabbed a finger at her. "What is it?"

"Relax, it's just breakfast," she said a smirk.

"Well where are you going?"

"I don't have time for this. I've had a long fucking week," Chloe shook her head and turned her back to him.

"Hey!" he began to follow her. "Where you going? Where's my money?"

Chloe whirled around and held up an arm as if she was holding him at bay. "Will you get off my ass, already? I'm going to the hospital, if you're so fucking curious."

"What, are you sick or something?"he sneered.

"I'm sick of your bullshit, yeah," she replied defiantly.

"You getting smart on me, Price? The fuck are you doing?" he approached menacingly.

"I'm going to go see my friend in the hospital who took a bullet from Nathan Prescott who was trying to cover up the murder of Rachel. So  _Fuck. Off_."

The mention of Rachel stopped Frank in his tracks. "Rachel? And that Prescott son of a bitch?"

"I have some breakfast to deliver." Chloe turned around once again to leave Frank standing there confounded.

"Chloe, wait. Chloe!" he called after her.

Chloe turned slowly and was surprised when she saw Frank's expression. For a moment he lost his hard-assed drug dealing personality and allowed a deeper side of him to show, a side that actually cared about life. He was genuinely concerned about Rachel, much like she was. More than that, he was frightened.

"I... I'm sorry about your friend," he began. "What's her name?"

Chloe gave a wry smile. "Max. She's getting better."

"That prick really shot her because she found out about Rachel?"

"Rachel got mixed up in some nasty stuff with Nathan and that teacher Jefferson. Max found out and Nathan tried to kill her to keep her quiet."

"So Rachel, she's..." Frank trailed off in futile anticipation that Chloe would interrupt his train of thought and reassure him that Rachel was safe. But she didn't. She shook her head sadly.

"I'm sorry Frank, I really am. That's her bracelet, isn't it? I know she meant a lot to you and I know she loved you."

Frank ran a hand through his messy hair and closed his eyes to shut out the world. "Goddammit... how? Do you know how she died?"

"Nathan... drugged her. It was an overdose."

"An overdose? No... that means that... god, why? There was only one way that Nathan got those drugs. If I hadn't been so fucking stupid giving him those drugs to let him play pretend drug dealer then maybe-"

"Frank, no. He would've just found another way. This isn't your fault."

"It sounds so fucking cliche but... she really did make me want to try. I'm a drug dealing drop out but she saw something in me. I still have trouble seeing what she saw. It's even harder trying to be the man who she saw."

"Rachel saw something in both of us. You've got a good heart, Frank. And coming from me, that's saying something."

"Where's Nathan?"

"The cops don't want me to tell anyone, but they got him this morning. He's going to go away for a long time."

"I'm glad, that punk more than deserves it. Thanks for the tip."

"Don't mention it. Like really."

Chloe turned to finally go back to her truck, but Frank stopped her. "Hey listen, about the debt..."

Frank seemed to chew on his words as one does before he says something he knows he will come to regret. "It can wait. Go screw around with your friend. But don't make me wait too long!" he added, to reaffirm his thuggish exterior.

_Told you you've got a good heart_.

* * *

Max was waiting outside when Chloe got to the hospital. She parked the truck and grabbed the bag off of the seat as Max got in. After she settled into her seat, Chloe handed the bag over to her. Max looked inside and her stomach immediately growled.

"Well hello there," Chloe laughed as she heard the growl.

Max was still looking inside the bag, ignoring Chloe. "What's this?"

"Hospital food is shit. Also, Joyce says hi."

"Well this is one way to say hello," Max said as she marveled at the food.

"And the guys at the police station wish you well. They caught Nathan this morning."

"Well I'm glad that hasn't changed."

"Speaking of change, I got a change of clothes for you in the back. We can't have you tear-assing around Arcadia Bay in your hospital gown."

"Now that you mention it, this gown makes me feel ridiculous."

"Sorry I'm late, by the way. I ran into Frank."

"Uh oh. That doesn't sound good."

"Actually it wasn't bad. He wanted the 3 grand that I owe him. But after I told him I was on my way to visit you in the hospital because you got shot by Nathan, he softened up."

"No kidding?"

"For a second he seemed almost half pleasant. Gave me an indefinite extension on my debt. Alright, Captain Max, where to?"

"How does the beach sound?"

"To the beach it is!"

The sun overhead had been warming the sand for hours, and it felt heavenly between her toes. The moment was picturesque, which was perfect for her photographer friend. The waves came in to wash away all footprints and trace of human interference. Gulls called overhead while circling for food.

After discovering Rachel's fate in the junkyard, Chloe was glad Max hadn't suggested her former hideout. The junkyard and train tracks reminded her too much of her late friend and the love of freedom they shared. The beach had been one place she hadn't frequented with Rachel, and it was about time she made new memories with her long lost best friend.

The two sat down on a blanket in the sand. The breakfast food they brought wasn't exactly a typical picnic, but Chloe figured  _Oh, what the hell?_

"You're going to rewind soon, aren't you?" Chloe said before taking a bite of her breakfast.

After some time, Max finally replied "I was thinking about it."

Chloe put her fork down. "This sucks. It doesn't seem fair, you know? If I was you, I'd totally be using your power to mess around and pull crazy shit. You're trying to save lives and the universe is trying to stop you at literally every turn."

Max set down her container as she pondered aloud. "I've always wondered why I was given this power. The police arrest Nathan and Jefferson even if I don't talk to them. In the end my options are always the same. Nothing I do along the way really matters. It's like those rides at amusement parks that have steering wheels. No matter how hard I turn the wheel, I'll still move along the track. I'm just there along for the ride, completely helpless. I can see the future through a window I can't open."

"You sound defeated. Why do you keep on doing this?"

Max looked out across the horizon at the clear blue sky. "Dunno. Maybe somewhere deep down I believe that I can change things."

"But you can."

She turned her gaze to the sand between her feet. "I couldn't save Kate from jumping the first time I saw it happen. The second time, I was able to talk her down. But in the end, the choices I made were all erased when I went back to the beginning. Did I really change that much? All the choices along the way add up to nothing, even Kate's death."

"So why do you think you were given the powers?"

"Do you know Groundhog Day?"

"Bill Murray relives the same day over and over? Of course."

"After a while he learns to use his power for good and actually helps a ton of people. He basically becomes a god for a day. At the end of the movie he breaks out of the cycle and life goes on. But without his power he can't save kids falling from trees or elderly men choking on their steaks. Outside of that day, he's ineffectual. The only difference between us is that I get a week instead of a day."

"Maybe it's not about changing other people's lives," Chloe suggested thoughtfully. "Maybe it's about his own change. Do you think he turned out a good person?"

Max shrugged. "I'd like to think so. But that's an awful lot of power for the universe to bestow upon someone just to change them. I can't help but wonder if there was something more to this power than seeing things I can't change."

"Me too."

"Hey this is random, but how good are you at fixing stuff?"

"That depends..."Chloe started slowly. " Why do you ask?"

"So I broke my camera when I fell down in the bathroom, and I'm not sure how to fix it. Nothing on the outside is broken, but I think it's some electronic thing inside."

"Hm. I think I have some tools at home. I can look at it tonight if you want."

"Really? Awesome. My bag is still at the hospital so I'll give it to you when you drop me off."

"It's kinda a moot point, isn't it? Fixing your camera before you rewind. Nothing's going to matter after this week, so why bother?"

"Maybe I like to keep up the appearance that I can still change things."

Chloe laughed. "Damn, you're edgy."

"God, I know, right? Let's go back. I want to see if I can get discharged today."

Chloe held up a mock salute. "Aye aye, captain."

The entire trip back Max held her gaze on the horizon. Chloe couldn't help but follow suit. From the beautifully clear weather, it was so hard to believe that a massive storm capable of leveling a town would come in a few days, let alone the fact that it was all caused by her staying alive.  _Does the universe want me dead that badly? Who am I?_

She understood Max's silence, but part of her wished she would spend these moments with more conversation. There was still so much more to be said between the two after 5 years of silence. Despite this, she still understood that the inevitability of the rewind weighed heavily upon Max and affected all her interactions with others, especially with her.

Chloe dropped Max off at the hospital and she returned with a bag. She placed the bag in the car through the open window, but rested her arms on the door.

"Hey Chloe, can we talk?" she asked quietly.

Chloe was caught off guard. "Uh, we just spent the whole afternoon hanging out, but sure?" What was going on

Max searched for words but her voice failed her when she opened her mouth to speak. She ran a nervous hand through her hair as she searched desperately for words.

"Um... good luck with the camera," she said at last, patting a hand on the truck.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "I'll do my best."

Clearly, Max wanted to talk about something else but either couldn't discuss it or didn't want to. She waited for Max in case she found the ability to bring up whatever it was, but Max stayed silent.

Chloe brushed it off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The truck sputtered and sped off down the road and Max remained at the front doors of the hospital, tears in her eyes.

"No, Chloe. No you won't."

* * *

It took some time, but Chloe eventually found the correct tools to try and fix Max's camera. She lay the camera on a blanket to protect the parts from the desk. Several screwdrivers made short work of the outer casing. Suddenly the room filled with a flash of light and Chloe flinched as the camera went off unexpectedly.

"Huh. I thought it was broken."

A Polaroid spat out of the printer but only came out halfway through. It was stuck on something, and Chloe tried to pull the case apart to see what it was. As the case slowly opened, the Polaroid fell out, attached to a folded piece of paper. Chloe picked it up and unfolded it. Neat handwriting scribbled all across the paper that resembled Max's.

"What the hell? Max, you of all people should know that you can't cram regular printer paper into..."

Her thoughts trailed off as her eyes moved down the paper. The letter was addressed to her from Max. Confusion swirled around in her mind as her hand trembled with the weight of the note. A slight tingling spread out from her spine all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes, paralyzing her with fear. The last line of the letter pierced her like a dagger.

_I hope that someday you can forgive me for leaving you again. I'll always love you_.

"Max,  _no!_ "

Chloe screamed out loud as she dropped the letter and ran out of the house.


	4. Ghosts

 

**Chapter 4 - Ghosts**

* * *

"Her name is Maxine Caulfield, admitted earlier this week. Yes, I'll hold."

Chloe was in her truck, speeding all the way to the hospital. She had just called the front desk, asking if Max had checked out of the hospital or not. If she had, then she could be anywhere, putting Chloe in some seriously deep trouble. Chloe prayed that she was still there. The phone played a short clip of a classical piece overlaid with static. The soothing music was a stark contrast to the adrenaline fueled panic Chloe was currently in.  _If this is supposed to calm me down, it's definitely not working._ The weather outside had quickly transitioned from the sunny afternoon into an overcast mess. Only hours ago were Chloe and Max soaking in the rays on the coast of Arcadia Bay. Now, a thick gray haze blanketed the sky.  _Had the storm come already?_  The music stopped and there was a voice on the line. "Hello?"

"Yes! Is she still there?"

"She is still checked in, except she has requested that she not receive any visitors."

_To hell with what she requests._

Chloe didn't even lock her doors as she dashed into the hospital. Several people in the lobby were taken aback by her sudden entrance. She ran to the elevator and jabbed at the button impatiently.  _Come on, come on._ Her foot tapped on the ground as she waited for the elevator. The elevator came to a halt with a gentle  _ding_  but the doors took ages to open.

"Oh yeah, open a little slower, won't you?" Chloe blurted out angrily. A nurse walking by gave her a funny look but Chloe didn't even notice.

She got off at the second floor and made a beeline for Max's room. She threw open the door, but found the room empty. The bed was unmade and the sheets were messy. Chloe laid a hand on top of the bed and realized the surface was still warm. Max wasn't that far ahead.

Chloe darted over to the restrooms and began opening each stall, calling for Max. She pushed open each stall, but the entire restroom was empty. She groaned and ran back outside.

Her next stop was the front desk where one of the staff was on the phone. The woman on the phone was taking her sweet time, not even noticing Chloe had her hands on the counter and her fingers tapped restlessly. Finally, the woman took notice of Chloe and smiled, gesturing for her to wait. If looks could kill, Chloe would have incinerated her right there on the spot. The woman almost looked frightened by Chloe's glare.

"Max Caulfield, I need to know if you've seen her."

The woman's eyebrows went up as to indicate she was not having any of Chloe's impatience.  _Unlike Max, I don't have time for this shit._  Chloe gritted her teeth and snapped her fingers twice in front of the woman's face. She was shocked, and held the phone away for a moment.

"Excuse me!" she said, astonished by the girl's behavior.

"Max Caulfield! The girl who got shot! Where is she?"

"I don't know!"

"Fucking  _useless_ ," Chloe spat as she walked away.

She took off her beanie and ran a nervous hand through her hair. She grabbed fistfuls of blue strands as she collapsed into a nearby chair.  _Think, think!_

"If I were Max and I had to die, how would I do it? Max doesn't have guns. She doesn't have pills. She only has..."

The color drained from Chloe's face as the realization dawned upon her. Max was going to kill herself the same way Kate Marsh killed herself.

_She was going to jump._

The rusted access door flew open with a crunch, exposing Chloe to the windy rooftop. The hospital was the tallest building in the area, leaving it unshielded from the wind. At the edge of the rooftop stood a figure. Relief flooded Chloe's system as she realized she wasn't too late, but fear quickly overwhelmed her relief as she remembered what was at stake.

"Max, wait!" Chloe called over the sound of the wind.

Max turned around. Chloe was taken aback by how calm she looked. She wasn't crying or pacing back and forth on the ledge, but rather she was at peace, coming face to face with death and staring it in the eyes. She took a moment to look over her shoulder to make sure she was still safely balanced.

"Chloe? What are you doing here? No, stay back!" she held out an arm. Chloe put up both of her hands and immediately stopped her approach. The last thing she wanted to do was scare her off the ledge.

"Max, you don't have to do this!" Chloe pleaded.

Max raised her arms to the sky and the storm around her. "Look at this! Look at how quickly the weather is going wrong! I thought I had until the end of the week, but I'm not sure anymore. My powers are tied to the storm. If my powers end, then the storm ends. I'm doing what has to be done."

"You don't know that!" Chloe tried to reason. "I mean, what if there's something else you can do?"

"I'm tired, Chloe. I'm tired of living out this week so many times trying to fix things but always running into the same conclusion. I can't sacrifice you or Arcadia Bay. There's only one option left."

"It doesn't have to be this way!"

Wind howled around both of them, and rain began to pour from the dark sky. The two were at a standoff. Max stood on the edge, ready to jump. Chloe stood opposite of her, desperately racking her brain to find something to bring Max back from the precipice.

"What about your parents?" she attempted.

"And what about yours, Chloe? If I choose to go back to that bathroom and let Nathan kill you, no one would even know about your bravery and sacrifice. Not even you remember! The last thing you hear before dying is that no one would ever miss you. You don't even know how much I would miss you because you won't remember our week together! It's a horrible way to die, way worse than this. I can't ask you to sacrifice yourself for a town you don't care about, not even for me."

"Maybe I always cared for you," Chloe suggested softly, almost to herself. "Maybe deep down I never forgot about you and I was just too chickenshit scared to say that. What if I always remembered?"

Max looked down and took a half a step backward toward the open sky. "Chloe, please don't make this harder than it already is."

_She's going to jump._ _I have to do something!_

Chloe reached inside her jacket pocket for her gun but couldn't find anything. She patted down the rest of her pockets, but looked up to see her gun in Max's hand.

"What the hell? How-" she blurted out, confused.

"A few seconds from now, you threaten to shoot yourself if I jump. I took your gun and used my rewind."

Chloe began to panic and her voice quaked with unsteadiness. "Max, I can't do this without you!"

"I'm sorry," Max said definitively.

Another step back.

Chloe was yelling at the top of her lungs now. " _Goddammit Max, I love you! Please!_ "

A single tear finally fell from Max's eye onto the rooftop. She was calm, smiling even. She had accepted her decision and nothing could change it. As Chloe looked into Max's eyes she saw an unwavering determination to save her friend. But she also saw a fatigue that extended beyond the few days she spent in the hospital. It was a fatigue that had built up from travelling through time fruitlessly, always coming up short at the end in an attempt to save the one thing that mattered in her life. In that single moment, Chloe understood Max fully, and she knew it was over.

"I love you too, Chloe. Always."

She lifted the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger. Chloe's eyes went wide with shock as the revolver fired, the gunshot muffled in the sound of the heavy rain. She knew she couldn't reverse time but everything seemed to play out in slow motion. Each individual raindrop was felt as it struck her cheek and disintegrated on impact. The gun clattered to the floor of the rooftop. Max's body swayed in the wind for a brief moment before falling backwards off the rooftop, plummeting the ten stories to the earth below. Chloe ran like a madman to the edge of the roof. With a hand covering her mouth she peered over the edge, recoiling immediately at the sight below.

_This isn't real._ _Please let this not be real._

Distraught, Chloe slumped down, back against the ledge, knees drawn up to her chest. Tears fell freely, mixing with the rain that streaked her face. Ragged breaths struggled in and out of her lungs as she gasped to keep her breathing under control.

_This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real._  However much she tried to lie to herself, she knew it was real.

Twice now, she had seen Max's close brushes with death, and though she survived her first, uncertainty and certainty of death felt all the same. In this case, hope of Max's survival evaded her as hope usually did. Max shot herself and fell off the roof; events either of which alone would kill her.

_Why, Max?_

When Chloe looked up, the rain had stopped. The clouds pulled back, revealing the late afternoon sun. But its warmth did nothing to comfort Chloe, save from the fact that she now knew that Max was right. Her unexplainable powers had been inextricably tied to the storm, and when she died, the storm ended. The conclusion was simple, the logic undeniable. But it felt cold, so cold.

With trembling hands she collected the gun from off the ground. The smooth metal she once found comfort and security in now burned her fingers with loathing. She stared at the gun as it hung limply in her hands. Chloe fought to think logically about the situation. For David's sake, she knew she had to hide the gun. If the police came and realized the gun wasn't Max's, they would suspect foul play and might even point at David as a suspect. If they couldn't find the gun, they couldn't tie anything to him or herself. Keeping the gun meant she was safe, but the reminder would serve to haunt her as long as she kept it.

* * *

There was a click as she hung the payphone in its cradle. Miraculously, she had found a payphone and phoned in an anonymous tip about a girl jumping off the hospital roof. When pressed for her name, she hung up. She couldn't bear to deal with anyone badgering her about her brush with death, her reunion and subsequent reconciliation with her best friend, or now her relationship with her friend and the possibility that she was unstable.

Max had tried to explain herself to Chloe in the letter. She theorized that where there was death in a timeline, there will always be death. For the longest time she believed the choices were either Chloe or the entirety of Arcadia Bay. Only recently did she begin to entertain the possibility that she was a viable substitute to satiate the storm. When she realized things in the week had already descended into chaos, she took a preemptive strike upon herself.

Chloe leaned her head back against the phone booth as she cursed herself.  _If only I hadn't been so goddamn greedy trying to get money from Nathan in the first place. And for what? To pay off my debt to Frank that I took because I wanted to run away and avoid my responsibilities? I was so fucking selfish. This whole thing is my fault._

Part of her wondered if this powerlessness was what Max felt in the bathroom watching Nathan with the gun, or not being able to talk Kate down from the roof the first time around.  _No, this was definitely worse._  The last time she had felt anything resembling this type of pain was when she received word her biological father had died in a car crash. It took her a full week to realize he wasn't coming home, but even that period of denial slightly cushioned the blow of loss on her adolescent mind. Death was a regular acquaintance in her life, and she understood Max was not ever going to come back.

As soon as she got into her truck, she broke down. Shielded from view from the outside world, she wept bitterly, cursing herself, cursing the universe. Her naturally irresponsible personality had pushed blame of death onto anyone but herself. William, Rachel, now Max, their fates were part of some sickeningly twisted plot of the universe to crush her. If she was to be honest with herself, she knew it all led back to her. Guilt was a weight she had thrown into the sky by herself, hoping it wouldn't come back down. But the blame she had pushed to the edges of the known universe had all come crashing back down on her spectacularly. Max's death was the gigantic straw that broke the fragile camel's back.

She lost track of time as she remained in the truck, finally stirred from her thoughts by the sound of police sirens that came. She needed to get out of there before anything happened. She already saw the police finding Rachel's body, and she didn't think she could stomach them finding Max's body. She turned the engine over and headed home, collapsing on her bed in exhaustion as soon as she got inside.

* * *

_October 10, 2013  
_ _Thursday_

Chloe didn't get a single wink of sleep the entire night. She lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The gradient provided by the rising sun erasing the darkness of her room was so smooth Chloe didn't even notice that it was morning. Her normally restless spirit that forced her to wreak havoc at least a few times a week lay dormant. Nothing could bother her to rise, not even the promise of food or the tempting stash of weed in her secret box. She wasn't hungry, and she definitely didn't need anything to mess with her head. This was a pain that couldn't be simply smoked away.

When Joyce and David received word that Max had killed herself, naturally they were concerned for Chloe's well being. The two had been reunited and then permanently ripped apart within a matter of days. For Joyce, it was almost like watching Chloe battle through William's death again, but five years later. First her father, then Rachel, and now Max. Her daughter had been through far too much for someone her age.

There was a knock on the door. The knock barely registered in Chloe's mind. Thoughts of different scenarios and outcomes consumed her, dragging her further and further down the rabbit hole that was the great question of  _what if?_  She thought of every single choice she made the past few days, altering each slightly in her mind and trying to trace the lines of fate to a different outcome, though she wasn't so much tracing them as much as she was trying to pull them somewhere else.

The knock came louder, this time followed by a soft "Chloe?"

_Joyce._

"Yeah?" Chloe returned with a single word answer.

"Can I come in?" she asked hesitantly.

Chloe shut her eyes against the world.

"Yeah," she replied again.

The door slowly opened, revealing a worried Joyce, barely out of Chloe's field of vision that was fixated on the ceiling above. Joyce moved to sit at Chloe's desk, turning the chair around to face the bed. Chloe rolled over, finally dragging herself into a sitting position. Every movement was arduous, as if her muscles were made of molasses.

"So..." Joyce began slowly, searching for words. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?" Chloe dodged the question. She swallowed as she heard her own scratchy voice. Not getting any sleep had taken a toll on her, though she remained perfectly awake.

Joyce let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, I get that you don't want to talk."

"Really? Because we're talking right now." She sounded raspy and ungrateful in her own ears, but she didn't care.

"How much sleep did you get?" Joyce asked, noticing Chloe's voice and her bloodshot eyes.

"None," she responded casually.

"Chloe, this isn't healthy," Joyce said firmly.

"There are a lot of unhealthy things in my life."

"You're hurting. I can get that."

"Can you?" she returned harshly.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She knew exactly how much Joyce had gone through with William and taking care of her own little hell-raiser. Joyce had shown so much concern for her even though Max was the one who was shot. Joyce cared, and she didn't deserve this attitude. Chloe pressed her lips shut firmly after that.

"When your father died-" Joyce looked away for a moment, chewing on her words. She continued, "When William died, I didn't want to talk to anyone either, so I understand you a lot more than you think I do. Where'd you think you got your sharp tongue from, anyway?" she added with a chuckle.

Chloe would have replied with a sarcastic rebuttal, but kept quiet. She shrugged instead. As much as she hated her nagging, she understood how wise her mother was. She had been through a lot, and maybe the two were more alike than she cared to admit.

Joyce continued steadily and slowly, choosing each word with care. "And I know that right now you're blaming yourself. You're going through all the  _what if's_  in your head, and I understand that too. When I realized that William got into that crash because of me, I blamed myself for months, years even. What if I hadn't called him to pick me up? What if I had just taken the bus like I usually did?"

"I spent days with her. I should've seen something coming. I don't know... maybe I could've changed her mind."

"Not even the greatest psychologist in the world could have changed her mind. Know why?"

Chloe shrugged.

"Because the best damn psychologist in the world isn't Max's best friend. You are. Whatever you said to her during your time together could have only helped. You were the most qualified person to help her and no one in the whole world could have changed her mind. So stop blaming yourself, because this wasn't your fault. If anything, you gave her a few more days of life. Did you ever think about that?"

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked, puzzled.

"It's not the type of decision that comes overnight. She was ready to do it even before she saw you. I don't know why she did the terrible thing she did, and we may never know. What I do know is that every moment you spent with her, you were saving her life, and the world was all the better while she stayed with us. Things just happen, and that's life, I suppose."

As Chloe mulled over Joyce's words, Joyce went to the door. "Come work at the diner with me. It'll help keep your mind off things. I know it helped me."

Chloe gave a wry smile as she got up from bed. She had helped at the diner a few times, though mostly for punishment purposes. She found it grueling and menial, nothing like the beauty of watching the sunset on the beach or the excitement of shooting bottles in the junkyard. But maybe grueling and menial was what her mind needed right now. "Alright, mom."

Joyce smirked as she watched her daughter get up. Blue haired punk or not, she was her mother and she knew her. "Now come on, let's get you some food."

* * *

Chloe sat on the edge of the dock, the damp wood cool to the touch in the hot afternoon sun. Her legs swung freely beneath the dock, almost touching the waters at high tide. In the distance she spotted a single boat on the water, though when she really focused it looked more like a small yacht. Shimmering lights danced across the rippling waters, nearly blinding her as she looked into the ocean. Waves lapped upon the supporting posts of the pier rhythmically, filling her ears with the sound of the water. The scene was perfectly calm, almost as peaceful as when she and Max shared that breakfast on the beach days ago. The serenity seemed so out of place in her chaotic life, and Chloe smirked to herself.

"Is that seat taken?" a voice next to her asked quietly.

Chloe looked up into the grinning face of Max.

"Nope," she replied. She looked at her lap and then back at Max. "And also, nope," she added with a wink.

Max laughed, "Gross, Chloe."

"You don't get hit on much, do you?" Chloe asked with a devious grin.

"Nope," Max said as she took a seat next to her. "But thank you so much for making up in that lacking area of my life."

"This place isn't real, is it?" Chloe asked.

Max shook her head. "You're probably on a major acid trip," she replied sarcastically.

Chloe made a disgusted face. "I haven't done acid in a long time, and I don't plan on doing it again either."

"That's good, because the inside of your head is complicated enough. I'd hate to see what a tripped-out version looks like," Max teased.

"Were you always this funny?" Chloe said with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe, but I'm just your prediction of what Max would say. You're literally setting yourself up. I'm not real, remember?"

"I know," Chloe said sadly.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that," Max said, putting a gentle hand on Chloe.

"I know you didn't," Chloe said. "I just miss you, that's all."

"I miss you too."

"You do?" Chloe asked.

"Well I'm sure the real Max would, wherever she is."

"I think she would."

"I know you think that. I said it," Max said with a grin.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Is your job just to say what I think?"

"If it's something that Max would say if she knew what was in your head, then sure. It's my job."

Chloe drew her legs up to sit cross legged. She leaned backward on her palms. "So tell me something I'm too afraid to say out loud. Something only Max would be able to say to me. Why am I sad?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm your best friend and I just killed myself?"

"Any dummy can see that. Give me something new."

Max paused for a while. Chloe looked over and could see the gears turning in her head. Part of her wondered if Max's delayed response was just a byproduct of her own subconscious deciding whether or not to say aloud what she was really thinking.

"You're not just sad. You're afraid," Max said after a pause. "You're afraid that you won't be able to live up to the sacrifice Max made for you. You look at Max and you think about the potential she had to help people, the goodness of her heart, her love for her friends. By sacrificing herself for you, your life has taken on the value and meaning that her life had, and you don't think you can live to be someone Max could've been."

Max's words stunned Chloe and sent her reeling. Even though the words were her own thoughts, she had pushed them into the far corners of her mind in an attempt to bury these thoughts that plagued her. Like rabid demons, they had bit and clawed their way through to the surface, reigning terror on her mind. Subconsciously, she had known this all along. Underlying the sadness, there was something else. Everything Max had said was true. Deep down she was afraid.

"Do you want my advice?" Max asked.

Chloe scoffed. "You're my own mind. Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do. You've already made your own advice. Everyone has. It's just a matter of accepting it and doing it."

"Well in that case, I'll hear you...er...myself out."

"Hey, you're learning," Max teased with a laugh.

"Shut up," Chloe said, sending a playful punch at Max's leg.

"I think you should stop worrying about living for Max. She didn't sacrifice herself so that you could mope around trying to become her. She wanted you to be free. Free from Nathan, Jefferson, and maybe even yourself."

"Myself?"

"You feel guilt for everyone around you who has died."

Chloe leaned forward to rest her elbows on her thighs. She stared at the glistening water at her feet. "I don't know if I can forgive myself."

"What for?" Max asked curiously.

"Being me, I guess. I drive people away. I've caused so many deaths."

"Don't blame yourself. Your mom was right, you know? Things just happen, and that's life."

_Things just happen._  The answer was so simplistic, Chloe wasn't sure she could accept it. She was powerless to do anything about the many deaths in her life. But then she thought back to her conversation with Max about Groundhog Day. When she thought about the advice she had given her and applied it in the context of her own life, it made sense. While she didn't have powers like Max to change the past, she could still change as a result of what happened to her.

Chloe let out a sigh. "I guess you're right. I'm sorry."

"Max already forgave you over and over, but I'll do it again. Not for me, but for you." Max replied. "And hey, guess what? You just forgave yourself."

"Did I?"

"I'm you, remember? This whole time, you've been the only one who hasn't forgiven yourself. This whole 'talking to yourself from Max's perspective' has just been to get you to let go of your own guilt. Feels better, doesn't it? I'm glad we finally got to this point."

"Me too," Chloe agreed.

"That's the spirit!" Max held up a hand to shade her eyes from the sun as she looked up. "Well, it's about time I left."

"Wait, you're leaving?"

"Technically, no. Technically Max was never here either. I'm just the memories she left behind with you, and I'm always with you. You can talk to me whenever you like, because well...you're me."

"I wish this was real," Chloe said as she hugged Max.

"I know," Max replied. The two stood at the edge of the dock, locked in each others' arms. When they finally separated, Max walked back towards land, waving at Chloe once before fading from her vision. As Chloe watched her retreating figure disappear, she felt an overwhelming surge of relief. Her projection of Max was right. She was the only one who hadn't forgiven herself for everything that had happened. Seeing Max leave once more normally would have brought back her sadness, but this time she watched her friend, filled with hope.

She turned back around to face the ocean and suddenly the sky went dark.

_What the hell? Where am I? I thought I was dreaming...I'm still dreaming, right?_

Lightning arced across the sky in a silvery-blue web, and thunder boomed shortly after. The once calm waters were whipped up by the wind, sending massive waves up into the air. On the horizon loomed a stupendously large twister. It cleaved through the waters with seething rage, and Chloe could feel the air tingle with static electricity. The dock seemed to sway back and forth under pressure from the waves and wind, and Chloe slowly backed herself away from the precarious edge.

"Chloe!" a voice behind her yelled.

She whirled around to find Max, one arm up to brace against the wind, the other hand cupped at her mouth to help amplify her voice over the chaotic din of the storm. She waved her arm toward Chloe, beckoning for her to follow. She pointed at the top of the hill, and Chloe realized she was at the bottom of the hill of the lighthouse.

Max wasn't dressed like the same Max she had just talked to in her dream. Instead of her usual T-shirt, jeans, and sweatjacket combo, she was wearing a long black rain slicker with the hood up to guard against the ludicrous downpour. Maybe it was the crazy lighting provided by the lightning in the sky, but Chloe could've sworn she saw a streak of blue in her hair.

"Look out!" Max cried out, pointing behind Chloe.

A massive wave lept up from the dock, looming a dangerous fifteen feet above Chloe, threatening to crash down upon her and drag her out to sea. Instinctively, Chloe held out her hand. The bulk of the wave froze suspended in mid-air, causing only a few remaining splashes to rain upon her. She stood there in shock as she saw a mass of water hang in front of her like a blob of the clearest molten glass. Stunned, she dropped her arm, and the wave crashed upon the dock, a few harmless feet away from her.

The event didn't seem to bother Max in the slightest. Instead, she kept moving up the hill. "Come on! We need to get to the top!"

_Did I just control that wave?_


	5. Double Dog Dare

 

**Chapter 5 - Double Dog Dare**

* * *

_October 11, 2013  
_ _Friday_

It was the piercing shriek of her alarm clock that made her gasp awake. Her skin was damp with a thin sheen of sweat and she rested the back of her hand on her forehead, blocking out the sun with her forearm. The sound of the howling wind and booming thunder remained in her ears, but they quickly faded and were replaced with the gentle hum of cars sputtering down the street.  _Maybe it was the sound of the wind from outside last night?_ She rolled over on her elbow towards the window but it remained shut. Her heart was still racing from when she froze the wave midair. She collapsed back onto the bed, confounded.

Chloe knew when she was high. She knew when she was sober. She knew when she was dreaming. But what she just experienced was nothing like any of those things. It felt like one of those nearly lucid dreams you could control because your mind was aware it was in a dream state. At the same time, even lucid dreams feel like dreams, and whatever just happened didn't feel like a dream. Chloe knew that the conversation she had with Max was completely in her head, but it felt so real. Even when the scene changed into the storm, it felt the same.

When Max described the twister in her vision, Chloe imagined it to look exactly like what she saw in her dream. Was she just projecting her own thoughts onto a made up scenario or was she actually seeing what Max saw? The spot of bad weather had ended when Max killed herself, and the next night she had dreamed of another storm with a different version of Max. Was it a coincidence or just a bad case of the night terrors? With everything that happened this week, she knew Max would scoff in disappointment at her if she threw everything up to coincidence.  _Everything is related somehow._

Then there was the matter of the wave. Surely it was about to crash down upon her, but stopped halfway through after it obeyed her hand motions. Telekinesis? She laughed the idea away disdainfully. But the thought remained in the back of her mind, nagging at her.  _What harm will trying do?_  She held out her same hand at the window, willing it to open. Nothing happened. She flopped back onto her bed as she realized that it indeed was a dream. Of  _course_  she didn't have telekinesis.  _What was I thinking?_

There was a knock on her door as she heard Joyce call from the hallway.

"Hurry up in there, Chloe."

Chloe went into a frenzy as she realized she was late for work. "Coming!"

Chloe hurriedly flung herself out of bed to get ready for the day. She was still working with Joyce at the diner, trying to keep her mind off things. She would much rather have her mess up a food order than get into more drug trouble. The way Joyce saw it, the possibility of causing problems at the diner was far better than causing problems anywhere else. She quickly changed out of her sleeping clothes into regular clothes, grabbing the Two Whales apron off the coat rack.

Though it remained balled up in her hand, the Two Whales apron seemed to materialize in her reflection in the mirror. She stood there, proud that she was finally doing something productive with her days. She chuckled softly.

"Max would be hella proud to see me working, all responsible and shit."

Maybe working life suited her more than her rebellious punk persona cared to admit. Any time her mind was free, her thoughts ran painfully back to Max. She needed busyness in a time like this, or anything to keep her mind off of the tragic events of the week.

As she reflected on how the previous day's work turned out, she began to hear voices. Small whispers at first, but they quickly rose in volume. Sometimes the whispers were interspersed with bits of laughter. Her body tensed as she looked around her room for the source. Nothing seemed out of place. After straining her ear, she could pick out another sound.  _Music_. Specifically, her own music. It was coming from where her CD player sat in her room. She went to it but it wasn't on. It wasn't even plugged in.

_Santa Monica Dream?_

She popped the lid and pulled out the disk. Sure enough, the album inserted was  _Down the Way_  by Angus and Julia Stone. She realized with confusion that she could still hear the music, even with the CD sitting in her hand.

"This is  _hella_  creepy," she muttered to herself.

She placed the disk back into the CD player and walked back to her bed, keeping an ear out for more sounds. More laughter, this time, seemed to echo all around her, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through her room. Even though the laughter was playful and not malicious as far as she could tell, it may as well have been the laughter of a maniacal killer for all she cared. The sounds sent chills up and down her spine, and she ran her hand over her shoulders.

"Chloe, you're going to be taking the bus if you're not down here in 2 minutes!"

"Alright, mom!" she shot back, trying to mask the uneasiness that crept up into her bones.

She shook off the jitters as best as she could and went to the door. The voices were no longer whispers at this point. They were muffled, but almost matched the volume of an in-person conversation. She covered her ears but to her horror could still hear them.  _Is this in my head? I'm going fucking insane._  She looked around desperately for the source.

_Max's camera bag._

Her bag sat where she last left it, right next to the door. As she approached it, the voices grew clearer. She could even make out bits of the conversation now.

_"My room looks a little different than the last time you saw it."_

_"It's cool. At least we can chill out."_

_"So tell me, what does Max Caulfield do for fun now that she's a grown-up?"_

The voices were unmistakably hers and Max's but it was a conversation they never had. The bag ripped open and she rifled through the compartments. Power cords, lenses, a few strips of cloth, but nothing that would justify the conversation she was hearing. In fact, it seemed to get even louder. She was about to give up when her fingers grazed something at the bottom of one of the pockets. It felt like a square piece of paper, a Polaroid to be exact. She gasped as she realized what she held in her hands.

The picture of the blue butterfly.

It was the same butterfly Max had used to travel back in time, which she had described in detail to Chloe in the hospital. Though innocent on the surface, there was a haunting quality about the whole picture. As Chloe turned the Polaroid over in her fingers, her vision started to distort.

_What's happening to me?_

An overwhelming dizziness overtook her, and she stumbled backwards toward the bed. Her knees hit the soft mattress and she would have fallen flat on her back if she hadn't put out an arm behind her to brace herself. She looked around at her room in a daze, and suddenly the sun began to fade. To her surprise, it wasn't the eclipse that Max told her about. Instead, the slowly rising sun had begun to sink back behind the hilltops, as if it had come up earlier than it should have and was now fearfully retreating.

As the room darkened, Chloe looked up to see a ghostly figure rise up from her body. To her great disbelief, the figure was herself. She watched in bewilderment as the translucent figure walked around her room to the camera bag, the CD player, and the mirror. It was exactly what she had done this morning but in reverse.

 _Am I watching the past rewind?_   _I thought only Max..._

She could barely finish her thought in her head before another searing headache assaulted her, dragging out a pained cry. Light and shadows danced madly about her as the sun and moon chased each other across the sky. The scene before her eyes was eerie as she saw the week play itself out in reverse. When she saw herself sitting on her bed talking to her mom, she realized she could hear the conversation, but all backwards and fast forwarded to an incomprehensible blur. She saw herself dash backwards into her room and pick up Max's letter, then put her camera back together, appearing to jam the Polaroid back into the printer. The scene would have almost been comical if she understood the least bit what was happening to her.

She tried to keep track of the days as best as she could but quickly lost count. The fast forwarded days and her terrible headache didn't help either. After a significant period of time, she realized she was still watching the days reverse. She looked down at the picture in her hands, puzzled.  _Even if for some reason I got Max's powers, I should've stopped traveling through time on Monday, when she took this picture. I've definitely gone back at least ten days by now._

The sudden alternation between the sun and the moon only made her headache worse, and she held her head in her hands. Suddenly, Max appeared in the scene before her. She watched intently, fighting off the distracting headache. Max was taking clippings of various pictures and notes and pasting them onto a board. Chloe was there too, sitting down or pacing around backwards.  _This didn't happen this week. Why am I seeing this?_

Max and Chloe left the room, but quickly returned. The two were just hanging out like old friends, talking or lying on Chloe's bed. The days seemed to accelerate by even quicker now, but the two of them were still frequenting the room to just hang out. To her further shock, Max suddenly walked straight up to Chloe and kissed her. Chloe's heart skipped a beat as she did a double take, but the scene had already passed and gone on to another day.  _Did Max just... kiss me? That's hella weird... or at least I think it would be. Is it actually such a terrible idea?_

She shook off the thought and returned to watching the days play in reverse. The last scene she could make out was herself on her bed, smoking a joint while Max was awkwardly looking around her room. There was a flash of light and Max was standing at the board again, pasting clippings. The same events played out just as they had before, with only slight variations from what Chloe could remember.  _Didn't I just see this? This is definitely the same week, but only a few things look different._

A realization dawned upon her as she looked at the back of the picture in her hands. There was a number scribbled on the back.

_18._

_Max said she relived this week nineteen times!_ The scene now made sense. Chloe had already seen the nineteenth week played in reverse, and now she was observing the eighteenth. Max had probably kept track of the weeks by writing the number down after taking the picture. Another week went by, ending with Chloe on her bed smoking a joint and Max looking around her room nervously. Chloe realized that this must have been the day they had first reunited, and Max was still adjusting to Chloe's new persona. Another bright flash of light, and the number on the back of the picture changed.

_17._

Now that Chloe understood more of what was happening, she kept her eyes peeled for changes. The same scenes played over again, but the conversations were too fast to keep up with, and not only that but also backwards. The one difference she definitely saw this time happened when Max kissed her. Instead of the quick peck she saw before, it was a deep lengthy kiss that lasted even through the fast forwarding of the days. Chloe's eyes went wide.

_Whoa there._ _Is Max into me?_

Thinking about it more, she realized that the Max who took the bullet for her would have remembered the entire week, and all of the previous weeks. She remembered everything, and yet no kiss. Chloe knew for her own devious self that if she had a power like Max's, she would totally abuse it, messing with anyone she so pleased.  _The last week was just a short peck, nothing compared to the meal she was making earlier. Did she not want me to get attached to her because_ _she already knew she was going to sacrifice herself for me, even before the week ended? Was she already distancing herself in that week before? It's totally a Max thing to do. Wait a second, am I getting sad that she didn't try to kiss me? Cool your jets, girl. Thinking about this in reverse is way trippy. And st_ _op thinking about your crush on Max. Focus! If I can manage to make it back to the beginning of the week, maybe I can help. Combined with Max's powers, there's got to be something we can do to save everyone! Maybe I can even stop myself from getting shot!_

Another wave of pain overtook her and she felt a trickle of liquid spill from her nose. She wiped it away, but the familiar metallic scent told her what was happening.  _Blood._  Just like Max, she was getting a bloody nose from traveling too far into time. She checked the picture again to see how far she was.

 _3_.

She was almost at the beginning. The pain she felt while traveling through time was distracting, but bearable. She could still maintain focus well enough to travel, but now she was starting to lose consciousness altogether. Darkness swam around her, clouding her vision.

_No, not yet! I'm almost there!_

Details of her room began to blur together into one foggy mass as she held her head in her hands. Eventually she collapsed backwards on her bed. It felt like vertigo, not knowing if she was standing or lying down, but feeling dizzy all the way throughout. She grasped the bedsheets underneath her to make sure she was lying down and wouldn't kill herself if she fell over standing up. As the lights traveled around her room faster and faster, she succumbed to the dizziness and fell unconscious.

Immediately, the room around her came back into focus, and the sun halted in the sky. Birds chirped, cars rolled down the street, and all was peaceful. She lay still on her bed, completely unmoving. Traveling through several weeks of time had taken an immense toll on her body. The hand holding the picture hung off the side of the bed, and the Polaroid slipped through her fingers to land facedown on the ground. The number had disappeared altogether.

* * *

_October 21, 2013  
Monday_

The dock was nearly the same as Chloe had pictured in her dream, albeit a tad more weathered. There was no yacht this time, but the shimmering waters remained the same. The sun hovered a few inches off of the horizon, casting an orange glow on everything it touched. Seeing Max in her dream made her wish with all her might for another opportunity to spend time together like that. It was a no-brainer that the first place Chloe wanted to visit upon entering this timeline was the dock.

Sitting next to Max like this felt so surreal. She kept pinching herself or biting her tongue to make sure she wasn't in another dream. Eventually she accepted that this was real, and Max wasn't just a product of memories and her subconscious. An blissful smile overtook her face, and she thought with some embarrassment how dumb she looked. But really, she didn't care. Just like old times, it was the two of them against the world.

Max finally noticed Chloe's ear to ear smile and smirked. Now that drew Chloe's attention.

"What're you smirking at?" she asked, unable to contain her smile or sound serious.

Max shrugged, still grinning. "Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Hella weird being together again, huh?"

"You can say that again," Max agreed wholeheartedly.

"I thought I'd never see you, like ever."

"That makes two of us."

Chloe held high the beer in her hand, waving it around to the invisible audience before them. "To the reunion of the dead!" She took a long swig and let out an obnoxiously loud "Ahh" in Max's direction.

Max laughed and wrestled the bottle from Chloe's hands. "Gimme that." Chloe's eyes widened as Max pointed the bottle toward the sky. "To the reunion," she repeated with a wicked glint in her eye. Max took a deep breath before taking a long swig from the bottle in similar fashion. Chloe's eyes almost popped out of her skull.

"Whoa."

Her surprise was short lived however, as Max immediately sprayed out most of the mouthful into the ocean. A fine mist hung in the air as she coughed and retched, sending Chloe into fits of uproarious laughter. Chloe fell backwards onto the dock, clutching her stomach in laughter as Max continued to gag.

"Holy shit, Max!" she managed in between struggling breaths.

Finally, Max calmed her cough and regained her breathing. She held up a finger to signal for Chloe to wait for her to say something. Chloe waited, trying with all her being to not burst out into more laughter. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand to help suppress her laughter.

"First of all, I hate you." Max tried to sound serious but a giggle managed to come up in between her words, completely thwarting her attempt. Chloe almost erupted in laughter again after hearing Max's unsuppressed giggle, but Max shot her a death glare. Chloe resorted to nodding enthusiastically instead.

"And secondly, this tastes like shit. I don't know why you drink this stuff."

"Why did you?" Chloe asked, as to tell her it was her fault for drinking.

"This exact situation is literally the only thing I will drink to."

"Well I'm proud of you for trying, even if you take alcohol like a twelve year old."

"Maybe you're rubbing off on me more than I'd like."

"That sounds kinda dirty," Chloe snickered.

Max recoiled dramatically. "Oh gross, Chloe!"

"Relax, Mad Max. I'm just hitting on you," Chloe teased.

"You're what, now?" Max asked with wide eyes.

"You're such a dork," Chloe said with a giggle. She held up her hands in defense. "And hey, don't pretend like you didn't kiss me."

"How did you see-" Max started. She paused when she realized that Chloe had seen the entire week right before her trip to the past. She also realized her indignation was making it seem like she didn't want Chloe to find out. She recovered herself and threw back, "You dared me to!"

"Really?" Chloe asked sarcastically. When Max nodded and she realized it really was a dare, she slowed her approach. "Oh. I thought... never mind," she added. She took another swig, trying to mask her disappointment. Max's face turned a few shades redder.

Max's eyes lit up as she reviewed the story Chloe had told her. "So... you have my powers now. This is crazy."

"Insane, right? Or maybe it's just some version of your powers. I still don't understand how I got here. If I traveled through the photograph, I should have been sent back to whatever version of Chloe was here when you took the picture. I should be dead."

"Huh," Max stated simply.

"And what about seeing the whole week backwards over and over again? Did that ever happen to you when you traveled through pictures?"

"No, that's pretty weird," Max replied.

"And holy shit, nineteen times? Alternate Max repeated the same week nineteen times trying to change things to save me. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Max was silent but gave a cheerless smile.

"Did you ever think about going back and changing things?" Chloe asked, looking over towards Max.

"All the time," Max said despondently.

"Really?" Chloe said with wonderment.

Max nodded. "I've thought about it a lot, but I was always too chickenshit to go through with it. I guess this means that somewhere inside me, some alternate timeline, there's a Max that is desperate enough to."

Chloe threw back her head as she downed the last of the bottle. The sun was starting to set on their evening. Waves gently lapped up against the dock, just like in her dream. The glass clinked softly on the dock as Chloe ran her fingers over the smooth glass absentmindedly.

"I can't go home, can I?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Max frowned in thought. "I never thought about that."

"The thought just came to me. If I showed up, my parents would totally flip out. I'm supposed to be dead, and I don't even know if my presence here will last. The last thing I want to do is get their hopes up and disappear again."

"Don't tell me you're going to disappear, Chloe!" Max groaned.

"Hey don't worry, I won't. Or at least I don't plan on it. You never quite know with all of the strange things that happened this week."

"I guess we have to keep you hidden now, just to play it safe."

"How am I supposed to go anywhere? If anyone sees me... I'll need a disguise or something," Chloe added with a chuckle.

Max pointed to Chloe's head. "Might have to start with that."

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked, confused by Max's pointing.

"Your hair. That shade is way too noticeable, especially after you showed up in the news."

"Dammit! I like my hair like this," Chloe whined sorrowfully. "Maybe if I wore a hood all the time?"

Max rested her chin on her fist thoughtfully. "I suppose that would work..." she began slowly. "Or the easier way is to just shave it all off. You could be Professor X," Max offered with a snicker.

"Ow!" She cried as Chloe punched her in the arm for the sarcastic comment. "But seriously though, you're way too noticeable in that getup of yours. You're like, the  _only_  punk rocker in all of Arcadia Bay."

Chloe resigned herself with a sigh. "I guess you're right."

"I think some of my clothes might fit you, but we'll have to sneak you back into my dorm. And then..." Max held up her fingers and closed them like scissors, leering at Chloe's hair.

"Snip snip," she whispered evilly.

Another punch.

"Ow!"

* * *

The sound of rushing water echoed off of the tile floor and walls, which made Chloe worry that someone would find them. Max stood outside keeping watch as a preventative measure, just in case one of the other girls on her floor decided to wash up at this time of night. Max could hear the muffled sound of the water through the door, and she began to worry as well. She tapped her foot anxiously _. Chloe is taking a long time._

Finally the water shut off and she breathed a sigh of relief. Chloe appeared in the doorway shortly after, holding a bottle of hair dye remover, and it took Max a moment to recognize her. She was so used to seeing her with her blue hair and punk outfit that she nearly forgot the Chloe she grew up with. Punk rocker Chloe was a jaded cynic, chewed up and spit out by the world. Strawberry blonde Chloe was carefree and hopeful, though not without a healthy dose of mischief, as Max recalled their childhood adventures.

"You can stop staring now," Chloe said coyly as she pushed past the now blushing Max toward her room.

"I'm not-!" Max burst out, but Chloe was already too far down the hall. She shook it off and followed Chloe back.

When Max got to her room, Chloe was standing in her mirror, turning her head at various angles to see what her new, or rather  _old_ , hair color looked like. Max sat down on her bed, watching her. Chloe ran her fingers through her hair, making sure she got all of the blue and purple out. Her eyebrows furrowed as she finally stepped back, hands on her hips. She frowned.

"I look like I'm thirteen," she huffed in dissatisfaction.

"Oh, come on, you look great!" Max tried to encourage her.

"How long do you think I'll have to wait it out and look like this?" Chloe moaned.

"I'm hoping...forever," Max said optimistically. "If the universe lets you stay in this timeline...eventually we might not care anymore."

"What happens then?" Chloe asked, taking a seat next to Max on her bed.

"When what?" Max asked, confused.

Chloe put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't get me wrong, I'm totally psyched for the chance to live out the rest of my life in this timeline where we're together again, but realistically? How long until we say it's time for me to reappear to the world? And...and what about my parents? The longer I wait, the more they're trying to make peace with my death. I mean, what if I  _am_ here forever? Do I just pop up one fucking day and say 'hey everyone, I'm alive'? I just don't know anymore...what do I do, Max?"

Chloe sat with her head in her hands, fingers grasping at the strands of her newly undyed hair. Max put an arm around her, and Chloe leaned over to rest her head on Max's shoulder. Her hand rubbed Chloe's shoulder gently, and she felt Chloe sink into her more.

"What do I do?" she repeated softly.

"We'll figure it out," Max reassured her tenderly.

Chloe was mumbling now. "I don't know, maybe...what if..."

Max looked down at her. "Maybe what?" she prodded.

"I dunno. Maybe it was better for both of us to just accept the shit that happened to us. What if our powers were never meant to change anything, only to show us that maybe the first way was the best way after all?"

Max realized she was talking about her decision to sacrifice Chloe in the bathroom. After all of the changes they had made to the week, nothing mattered. In the end, Max had to undo everything they had worked for, including all the efforts she had made in her forlorn attempts to keep Chloe alive. What  _did_  she have her power for?

"Maybe you're right. My powers might just be there to show me that fate is set. But that doesn't mean I won't try to change things," Max said with determination. "My powers brought us back together, and being with you again is the best thing that could have happened to me, no matter the outcome."

"I wish I could stay in this moment forever. I could just stay here and not worry about all the future shit that would happen if I had to reappear to the world."

Those were the same words that Max once spoke to herself. Chloe was now experiencing the same dilemmas she faced when dealing with the consequence of time travel. With some sadness, Max reflected on all of the struggles she had dealt with. Seeing how differently Chloe processed them was difficult to watch, but she offered up her own proverb, hoping to dispel her torment.

"We can," Max told her. Chloe looked up in surprise. "But then it wouldn't be a moment," Max finished.

Chloe grinned. "Wow, look at you, all philosophizing and whatever." Max laughed and shook her head.

"In another timeline, I said the same thing to myself. I'm just telling you what I learned."

At the mention of the other timeline, Chloe sat up. "Hey, that reminds me..." she trailed off, an impish smile spreading across her lips.

"Um..." Max was starting to get worried now.  _What is she up to?_

She walked gingerly over to Max's dresser where her stereo set lay. She pressed the play button as the speakers crackled to life with the sound of smooth jazz and Ella Fitzgerald's buttery voice. The  _First Lady of Song_ , and rightfully so.  _But what was Chloe doing?_

_Never saw the sun shining so bright_   
_Never saw things going so right_   
_Noticing the days hurrying by_   
_When you're in love, my how they fly_

"So..." Chloe said slowly, moving to stand in front of Max. "In the week that I came from, I didn't dare you to kiss me."

"Oh." Max stated.  _That's all she wanted to talk about?_  Max was slightly relieved, but quickly remembered she wasn't off the hook yet. She knew Chloe was about to offer up her dare again, and that was plenty to be nervous about.

"Jazz?" Max questioned.

"It's your music," Chloe returned.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" she asked dubiously, unable to contain the slight grin that began to spread over her face.  _Unbelievable, this girl._

"No, I'm not  _trying_ ," Chloe dragged out the last word, implying that she was no longer  _trying_  but  _actually_  seducing her.

"Max Caulfield, I dare you to kiss me."

Max gulped audibly. Chloe took position directly in front of Max so that if Max were to even stand up, they would be only inches apart.  _All part of her plan,_  she supposed. Chloe's hands were clasped behind her back as she waited. Max's heart was racing out of her chest, and she was certain that Chloe could hear the muscle thumping wildly out of control. Right as Chloe was about to offer some sharp tongued jab about Max being too chicken, Max stood up.

_Fuck it._

Her lips pressed firmly into Chloe's, and she even felt a sharp intake of breath from Chloe as Max's move surprised her. Her eyes closed, Max quickly found the other girl melting into her own body as she felt Chloe's hands move to her side and lower back. They were locked together for far longer than a quick peck on a dare.  _Nope, you're not getting away from me that easily after flirting with me for the whole damn day_ , she thought to herself.

When they broke apart, both girls found themselves involuntarily gasp for air. They were but inches apart, and could clearly see that they were both as red in the face as the other. Max could feel Chloe's ragged breaths on her cheeks. She bit her lower lip and ran a tongue over it, realizing it was swollen. That elicited a small laugh from Chloe.

"Damn, Max!" Chloe said breathlessly with a laugh. "You're pretty hardcore."

"Yeah?" Max returned with a raised eyebrow. Emboldened, she followed up with, "In that case, Chloe Price, I dare you to-"

Chloe silenced the last part of her sentence with her own mouth, leaving Max still wide-eyed. Where the first kiss was gentle and prolonged, the kiss that Chloe initiated was hungry and desperate. Max found her movements mirroring Chloe's, moving her hands up to the small of her back. Chloe's hips pressed into her own in response, and she felt herself being walked backwards toward the bed. When her legs hit the mattress, her knees buckled, dragging Chloe down on top of her. With Max clinging onto her, Chloe braced herself, gently letting Max onto the bed. Through all the movement, neither of them broke apart.

Chloe pulled her bottom lip into her own mouth and bit down softly, sending electricity coursing up and down her spine. As she raked her fingers through Chloe's hair, she could feel Chloe running her tongue over her lip caught in between her teeth. Chloe was lying on top of her, and her heart was speeding just as fast as Max's was. Strands of Chloe's bangs brushed against her face and she breathed in the overwhelming scent of both the shampoo she lent Chloe and the harsh hair dye remover. Max shivered as her skin was suddenly exposed to the cool air, and she felt a warm hand pushing up the hem of her shirt. All question of whether or not Chloe was real flew out the window. This here was real, and tangible, and most of all,  _alive_.

Suddenly Chloe stood up, taking a few steps back. Disappointment and confusion swam through Max's mind as she looked up at her, propping herself up on her elbows.

"I...I'm sorry," Chloe stammered. "I shouldn't have just...I mean is it...it this okay?" her words marked with hesitation.

"O-of course it is," Max began as she sat up further. "Chloe, I wanted this. I want you. I know you're not just some guy who's going to leave in the morning or whatever usually happens. You're Chloe  _fucking_  Price, and we're bonded for life. Partners in time, right?"

Chloe had her hands on her head in anguish. "What if I do leave? I want this too, but if I can't control my power, all I'm going to do is hurt you when I disappear. And then if I go back to a world where you're gone..." she trailed off as tears welled up in her eyes. "It's gonna suck for both of us."

Max got up and clasped Chloe's hands between her own. "Chloe, listen to me. On the day I had to go back to that picture, I...I thought I lost you forever, and my biggest regret was not telling you how I felt about you until it was too late. But then you came back to me! And I'm not going to waste my days hoping for my chances in the next. If there's one thing I learned by traveling through time, it's that there's never enough of it. So even if you disappear on me, I want you to disappear knowing that...I love you. Always."

Chloe's wistful smile grew until she couldn't simply stand there anymore, pulling Max into a hug.

"Always," Chloe whispered back into her shoulder.

Chloe pulled back, and she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Sorry, did I just kill the mood?" she asked with a nervous chuckle.

"A little," Max admitted.

Chloe grinned roguishly as if she was being offered a challenge. "Well then, let me see if I can... _fix_  that."

She pulled Max into another kiss, and the two of them tumbled back onto the bed to the tune of Ella Fitzgerald singing Irving Berlin's  _Blue Skies_.

__I never saw the sun shining so bright_   
_Never saw things going oh-so right_   
_Noticing the days hurrying by_   
_When you're in love, my how they fly_ _

_Blue skies_   
_Smiling at me_   
_Nothing but blue skies_   
_Do I see_

* * *

_October 22, 2013  
Tuesday_

Max woke with the sun burning into her eyes. She blinked hard and pushed herself further into the pillow she rested against. Her eyes were barely opened as she looked around the room for her clock. As she tried to turn around, she realized there was something pinning her to the bed. A quick glance down and she was greeted with the sight of Chloe's arms wrapped around her body.  _She's still here!_  she noted with glee. Now that she was more awake, she realized she could feel Chloe's gentle breathing on her shoulder, and if she lay still enough, she could feel her heartbeat. Her presence here with her was soothing, and Max wasted no time in trying to wake Chloe to let her know they were still together. She rolled over out of her arms to face her.

"Chloe! You're still here!" Max let out in a sudden burst of happiness.  _Whoops, too loud, Max._

"Mm," was all that Chloe could manage. Her eyes cracked open slightly as she rubbed them. When she saw Max, her eyes shot open.

"Max!" she sounded equally groggy. "Holy shit, you're here! I'm still here!" she rubbed her eyes in between revelations.

"This is...this is freaking amazeballs! You stayed!" Max exclaimed.

"Amazeballs? Really?" Chloe asked with a cheeky grin. "Yeah, I stayed." She let out a soft yawn. "Shit, this is crazy," Chloe noted, getting up and taking in her surroundings. She glanced at the clock. "Don't you have class, though?" she asked with concern.

Max followed her gaze to the clock, which told her she needed to  _move her ass_  if she wanted to avoid being late, and smacked her forehead with her palm. "Damn it! I wish I could call in sick again, but I already missed yesterday's classes. I shouldn't skip classes but..." she turned back to Chloe, whom she would much rather spend the day with.

"Hey, school's important," Chloe warned.

Max raised an eyebrow. "Did  _you_ just say that school is important?"

"Well, I mean't it's important to you. Not to me, of course," she said confidently. "Besides, I'll be right here when you get back," Chloe promised. "And then we can continue from last night's... _ahem._   _Activities_ ," she added with a wink.

Max blushed but continued to gather her things to get ready for the day.

"You're an incorrigible flirt, Miss Price," she said with an air of false pretension.

"You didn't seem to mind," Chloe countered haughtily.

Max said nothing, but smiled to herself anyway.

"Hey, what's the weather like today?" Chloe asked suddenly changing the topic.

The question took Max slightly aback. "Uh, it's supposed to be warm. Why?"

"So...you can't exactly wear a scarf then?" Chloe asked hesitantly.

Max's eyes narrowed. "Why...would I need to wear a scarf?"

"To cover up the...um..." Chloe gestured to her neck with a nervous grin.

_Oh shit._

Max spun around in the mirror and pulled the shirt collar away from her neck. Her heart sank and she began to panic.

"You gave me a hickie? You gave me a  _fucking hickie?_ " she asked aghast.

"Well, that among other things," Chloe said with an evil smirk. Max rolled her eyes.

Chloe got up from bed and walked to stand next to her in the mirror. "Relax, MaxGyver, I'm sure you'll figure something out. It's not that bad, is it?" she said as she ran a finger over the red spot on the left side of her neck.

"This is payback for making you change your hair, isn't it?" Max jokingly accused her.

"Definitely," Chloe said smugly.

Max tried to pull up the collar of her shirt, but it seemed to keep sliding back down. Even her favorite hoodie didn't help in covering up the offending love mark. Finally, Chloe tossed her a pair of headphones that had a thick band connecting the ear cups. Max understood and wrapped hung them around her neck, checking out the different angles in the mirror.

Chloe shrugged. "It works."

Max ignored her. "I look like an idiot walking around with these. Totally not my style."

"It's either the headphones or the hickie. Take your pick."

Max let out a heavy sigh as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.  _Headphones it is._

* * *

Even though it was early in the morning, it was incredibly warm outside. A scarf at this temperature would have been ridiculous. As she made her way to the main building, she turned around to see two police cruisers pull up to the street. Surprised, she looked around and saw several officers already on campus. They were all walking into the main building. Her mind raced as she sought an explanation.  _Police? What for?_

She tried to look casual as she followed the officers inside the main building where all the classrooms were.  _Calm down, Max. You're just a student. You belong here._  There was a slight crowd of students outside one of the classrooms, and Max's heart stopped when she saw whose it was.  _Jefferson._  Several officers were inside his classroom, opening desks and beginning to tape off the area. Chaos and questions began to mount, and a clamor began to rise from the small mob. Standing at the edge of the mob was Kate, clutching her textbooks to her chest.

"Kate!" Max called, walking over to her. Kate looked up, worry written across her face.

"Hi, Max," she said softly.

Max gestured to all of the people. "What's with all of the people? Isn't there class?"

"There was. Mr. Gale, the art substitute, was in the middle of a lesson when the police came and told him to cancel class. We're all waiting out here now while he talks to the principal and the police," she explained.

Max stood on her tiptoes, trying to identify people in the crowd. "Why  _are_  the police here?" she asked aloud.

"I wish I could tell you," Kate replied.

Just then, her phone buzzed with a text alert. It was Warren.

**Warren: Did you hear the news?**

She punched out a quick reply.

**Max: What news?**

A loud voice made her look up from her phone. It was Principal Wells, standing at the front of the mob. On his left was a police officer, and on his right was Mr. Gale, the substitute teacher. Mr. Gale and the police officer were still speaking softly to each other. "May I have your attention, please!" he boomed over the din of the crowd. The students began to shush themselves, and eventually it was quiet again.

"I would like you all to remain calm, and to follow Mr. Gale in an  _orderly_  manner to one of the empty classrooms. You will be resuming class as normal. We apologize for the interruption."

Mr. Gale held up a hand, beckoning for the crowd of students to follow him. The chatter and noise quickly rose back to its normal level as the mob followed down the hallway. Max lagged behind the group as she tried to peer into the now taped off classroom. The phone buzzed in Max's hand again.

**Warren: It's Jefferson. They found his body on the side of the road with a bullet in his brain. He's dead.**


	6. To Love and Dye

 

* * *

**Chapter 6 - To Love and Dye**

* * *

Jefferson was dead.

Her mind thrashed about in the waters of confusion, desperately trying to keep itself above the waves. She found herself asking the million dollar question. What was she supposed to feel? Or rather, what would a _normal_  person feel? She supposed she felt a sense of relief, and to her horror, a small tinge of righteous justice. But that sense of justice was quickly overtaken by guilt. After seeing so much death firsthand, she dare not wish that curse upon someone else, not for Jefferson's sake, but for the sake of his family who probably had no idea he was this disturbed and was most likely grieving at this loss. To be happy for the death of Jefferson was to stoop to his level, or Nathan's, neither of which were suitable role models.

Bewilderment struck her as her mind raced through questions and possible answers. Jefferson was still either in a holding cell or the county jail. If he was found dead in a ditch, that meant he had to get out somehow. A jailbreak? It seemed unlikely, but who knew with Jefferson. More importantly, who would want to kill Jefferson? She scoffed at herself as soon as the question surfaced.  _She_  would have wanted to kill Jefferson, and Chloe probably would too. Hell, even quiet Kate might have wanted to kill Jefferson after what he did to her. Plenty of people would want to kill Jefferson, but none of those people, save for the hotheaded Chloe, would have the means or the willpower to do so.  _One of their families, then?_  That seemed implausible as well. Jefferson was about to go on trial in but days, and the case would be an easy open-and-shut murder. Undoubtedly, justice would be served there. Angry as they may be, it didn't mean that any of their families would actually follow through, and even less so if he was in police custody.

_The trial!_

A lightbulb went off in her head as Max remembered the trial. If Jefferson made it to trial, he would be forced into testifying against Nathan, in attempt to reduce his jail time. But if Jefferson was dead, Nathan would have a much better chance of getting off for less than the original charges demanded. Nathan would definitely have the best lawyers money could buy, and eliminating a key witness would be worth Jefferson's lifeless body's weight in gold. It was the Prescotts. It _had_  to be them.

The rest of the day's lectures passed through one ear and out the other, sticking to nothing in between. Max sat through her classes and everything seemed to move around her. All she heard were the blurred voices of disembodied conversations, unable to trace them to anyone in particular. Her classmates were no longer individuals, but were instead a single living amoeba that flowed around and through her.

All her thoughts revolved around how the Prescotts could have killed Jefferson while still in police custody. It would be no small feat to break him out, and an even bigger feat to kill him without a trace. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The infamously powerful family had both the means and the motive to murder Jefferson. Their roots went as deeply and ran as strongly as Arcadia Bay's itself, and they had connections everywhere. Max grimaced as she recalled how Nathan had talked to himself in the bathroom, claiming he could blow up the school and get away with it. The scary part was that he was probably right.

The blur that was the rest of her classes continued. Max's mind was completely preoccupied with not only Jefferson's death, but also Chloe's reappearance. Even though they were together for the entire previous evening, she still found herself pinching her arm to make sure she wasn't in a dream. It was only Chloe's first night back and already it had felt like their friendship never missed a beat. When Max recalled the culmination of last night's events, her face grew hot with embarrassment. Both of them were completely sober and mentally intact, despite the supernatural events that had brought Chloe back to life. When she kissed Chloe, it was nothing like she had ever felt before. Nothing like the dare Chloe had made with her those weeks ago, and nothing like the good luck kiss she had given Warren in the collapsing diner. This was much more. She knew Chloe probably better than anyone in the world, but in this simple yet intimate choice, she knew even more of Chloe. If Max had read the book that was her friendship with Chloe, physical touch was to turn the page to a new chapter.

She would definitely need to talk to Chloe about that sometime, and she wrote a mental reminder she knew she would dread reading later.

The day faded into a familiar orange glow that drenched the entire Blackwell campus. Physically and mentally exhausted, Max headed to the dormitory building. The instant Max placed her hand on the doorknob, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She continued through the door and pulled out her phone in stride. The number that flashed on the screen was new, and confused her. It didn't have a contact attached to it, but she could see the first line of the text message. Wide-eyed, she realized the message was from Chloe.

**Unknown sender:**   **Sup, it's me, your formerly dead friend. Bored out of my mind, went out to get food and a new phone. Come find me.**

_No no no no no...!_

Max sprinted up the flight of stairs straight to her room. She cursed as she fumbled the keys in her hurry, and finally threw open the door to her room. A quick scan revealed that Chloe was indeed gone. Max rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed grunt. Now  _really_  was not a good time to play hide and seek across town, especially when Chloe was supposed to be dead. If anyone saw her... Max pushed the thought out of her mind to worry about later. Right now, she had to worry about finding Chloe.

**Max: Where are you?**

**Chloe: What's the fun in that?**

Max scowled at the reply. Perhaps a flurry of emoji's would do the trick.

**Max: I don't have time for hide and seek :( :( :(**

**Chloe: Quit the emojis! You're evil. I'm at the cafe in the shopping plaza off of Lincoln. Take the 64 bus at the front of the school.**

**Max: Stay**   **put.**

Max grabbed her messenger bag from the sofa and gathered her things. Just before walking out the door, she stood in front of the mirror, straightening her clothes out, turning around at various angles to make sure nothing was out of place. Usually she wasn't this careful in checking herself before going out, being more casual in all of her meet-ups. A thought barged into her mind.  _Am I nervous about seeing her?_  She shook off the feeling.  _Sheesh Max, it's not a date. Get over yourself._

As she left her dorm, something caught her eye. A woman in a business suit was standing on the walkway, talking on her phone. She was too old to be a student, but her overly professional attire didn't exactly say "teacher" either. A school executive, then? Whoever she was, she clearly didn't belong here. The woman turned around and spotted Max. Suddenly she hung up and walked towards her.

"Maxine Caulfield?" she called as she reached out with her hand.

"Just Max," she replied, taking the woman's hand.

"Hello, Max. Tamara Nelson, state attorney," the woman said.

_Attorney?_  Max was taken aback by the woman's title. Her business attire made sense now. But her mind still begged the question,  _what was the state attorney doing here?_

"If you have time, I'd like to speak to you about the matter of the murder of Rachel Amber and Chloe Price."

Max gulped and froze. Tamara's words brought back the harsh reminder that in this timeline, Chloe was supposed to be dead, and only by strange happenstance was she still alive. Out there in the real world, Chloe was nothing more than the unfortunate victim of a disturbed teenager whose untreated psychosis made him prone to fits of rage.

"What do you want to know?" Max said after collecting her thoughts.

"Rachel Amber, did you know her?"

"No," Max said flatly.

"Chloe Price, how well did you know her?"

"We grew up together, then I moved away five years ago. I came back for school, but I haven't talked to her since I moved in."

"But you were her best friend, correct?"

"Yes," Max said quietly. When she thought about everything that Tamara was gathering from her, she realized she really was a terrible friend. If it wasn't for her time control abilities, she never would have reconciled with Chloe or let her know she wasn't alone in the world. Chloe would have died scared and alone, without so much as a friend to miss her. But that was the world she was in right now.  _Holy shit. I suck._

"Police also said that they found you in the bathroom at the time of the murder. May I ask what you were doing there?"

"I had a headache and needed to wash my face," Max said defensively. "I already told the police all of this," she added with a hint of annoyance.

"I think you're hiding something," Tamara suddenly said, her steely gaze burrowing into Max.

"I'm not hiding anything," Max said while crossing her arms across her chest.

"Look Max, I'm not here to accuse you of anything."

"So what are you here for?" Max returned with obvious disdain.

"I think that you knew your friend was going to be shot. Somehow you feel responsible for what happened to her, and I understand that. I'm here because I think you feel guilt. You think that you should have been able to stop what happened to her."

Tamara's words were like a hammer on a nail. With a few glances at Max, she was able to read her completely. Who  _was_  this woman?

"I..."

"What you're going through is called survivor's guilt. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not..." Max started in a low voice.

"Here's the thing, Max. I can help that guilt go away." Tamara dug through her bag and moments later produced a business card. "I need someone to testify at Nathan's trial, someone who knew Chloe or Rachel. If you help me with this, you'll be helping bring justice to Chloe, Rachel, and those other poor girls."

She handed the card to Max, who took it hesitantly between her fingers. Max ran her thumb over the smooth surface absentmindedly, admiring the logo and art style. The top of the card was embossed with  _Tamara Nelson, Attorney for the State of Oregon_. Several phone numbers and extensions were at the bottom, next to an address. The professionalism seemed to exude through the card.

"If you want to help, give me a call and I'll arrange a meeting."

Tamara waved as she walked away, leaving a shocked Max standing on the pavement. Tamara got into her car and drove off into the distance. Max looked back at the card in her hand, turning it between her fingers. The card had a certain weightiness to it, or was that just the decision Tamara had left with her? She knew she should help the prosecution in whatever they needed for the trial, but a part of her hesitated. Tamara told her that she saw guilt in her, and maybe she was right. But something seemed off about the whole encounter. The state attorney herself had come to visit her, and Nathan's trial was but days away. Shouldn't they have talked to her weeks ago?

The approaching bus halted her train of thought and she walked over to it, ready to meet Chloe.

* * *

"I just found out that Jefferson is dead."

Chloe's eyes widened as she looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Dead?" she whispered in disbelief.

Max nodded. "There were police at school today, and they were going through his classroom."

"What did he do, hang himself to avoid jail?"

Max shook her head solemnly. "Shot in the head."

"Shot!?" Chloe exploded. Max's glare told her to keep her voice down, and she shrunk down into her shoulders sheepishly. "He was shot? How? I thought he was in police custody!"

"He was. Warren said that they found his body in a ditch. No witnesses yet, and there probably won't be any."

"Holy shit. This is insane."

"Tell me about it. I have a theory going... I think it's the Prescotts."

"What makes you say that? Don't get me wrong, I don't doubt you at all. I just want to hear your theory."

"Well Nathan's preliminary trial is set to happen in a few days, right? The cops had to be using Jefferson's testimony against Nathan. If I was Nathan's father and I wanted Nathan to get off easy, I'd get rid of the accomplice."

"Not a bad idea. I mean it's totally fucked up, but it's smart."

"Then there's something else. When I was about to get on the bus, this woman stopped me. She said she's the prosecutor for Nathan's murder trial. She wanted me to testify against him on the stand."

"That's even more insane. What did you say?"

"I told her I'd think about it. It would look suspicious if I didn't testify against someone who murdered my best friend."

The look of wonderment on Chloe's face suddenly drooped to a somber one. "Max, you gotta be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. Jefferson dies, and the same day some lawyer starts talking you up? You of all people should know, there's no such thing as coincidences in this fucked up world."

"Coincidences?"

"I don't know how much the police got from Jefferson already, but they sure as hell aren't getting any info from a corpse. They're desperate for evidence. Isn't it obvious? Max, if you're not careful...I mean look at what happened to Jefferson."

"Chloe, I have to do this."

"No, you don't. Just leave the kid to rot in his cell."

"What are you talking about? Do you want justice for Rachel or not?"

"I-" Chloe stammered. "Of course I do! What the hell kind of a question is that?"

"Then I need to testify! Nathan's parents probably have him lawyered up with the country's best. The police are going to need every witness they can find, and since they're fresh out of fucked up teachers who knew Nathan, I'm the next best thing. What if he goes free?"

"Max, you're hella overthinking things."

"Oh,  _I_  am?"

"You totally are! Nathan's going to go away for a long time, and the police don't need your help. Just...just let them do their job. They have all that they need."

"What's gotten into you, Chloe? You wanted me to  _make those fuckers pay for what they did to Rachel,_  and I'm trying to!"

"Max please, just listen-"

"No, you listen! The chance to put Nathan away is dangling there right there in front of me. There's no way in hell I'm not taking it."

"You can't-"

"Why, Chloe? Why can't I?"

"Goddammit Max, because I can't lose you again!"

The outburst hung suspended on the thick tension between them. As Max looked down at the table, she barely registered Chloe's hand clamped over her wrist. She knew that Chloe was strong, but this grip had something underneath it. It was fear. Fear that Max might leave and never come back. And so Chloe held on tight, clinging to the only person she knew was real. Max was speechless. Chloe finally relinquished her hold.

"Look, if you want to risk getting whacked by ratting out Nathan, go ahead. Don't count on me to watch."

With that, Chloe got up and stormed out of the cafe. Max had gotten up halfway from her seat to chase after her, but realized Chloe had left the bill. She growled in annoyance and fumbled around with her wallet. The rough estimate her mind calculated didn't total up to a nice round number of bills, so she grabbed a fistful of loose change and bills, slamming them down onto the table angrily as she avoided eye contact with the cashier on her way out. She ran out to the parking lot, looking for Chloe. Spotting her own jacket she had lent Chloe, Max followed her. Chloe was on her way to the bus stop and had pulled the hood up to prevent people from recognizing her. The afternoon bus ground to a halt and let out a sharp hiss of air to let down the loading side.

As Chloe's foot made contact with the first step, Max grabbed her arm and pulled her around. Chloe whirled around, fuming.

"Jesus, Max, what's your problem?"

"Chloe, I..." Max desperately searched for the right words to pull Chloe back to her side. "I want to be selfish. I really do."

Chloe's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I never knew Rachel. Only you."

Chloe was still scowling at Max when the bus driver called.

"Hey! Either get on or get off."

Chloe gave the driver a dirty look but stepped back onto the pavement. Max counted it as a small victory in the war to make Chloe understand her. At least she wasn't completely pissed off and unwilling to talk. The bus engine grumbled to a start and shot off.

"I wish that none of this happened. I wish Rachel was still okay. I wish that Nathan got help and Jefferson never used him. Most of all I wish that I stayed with you all those years. But... none of that happened, so here I am, wishing I could be selfish and ignore everything around me, but I can't."

Chloe sat down on the bus stop bench and stared out across the road. Max followed suit, taking the seat next to her. Max noticed that the bullet necklace Chloe usually wore was now clutched in her fist. Max had advised Chloe to not wear anything she would usually wear as to avoid her distinctive look from being seen, but realized that Chloe probably carried the necklace around anyway. She ran her fingers over the cold metal tips as if counting them to make sure they were all there.

"I know," came the two quiet utterances from the girl next to her. "I want to be selfish too. I want you to myself."

Max gave a half hearted grin as she looked over at the girl next to her. Chloe was staring at the space between her feet, and her bangs had come free of the hood drawn up about her.

"But..." Chloe continued, "I know that if I were in your shoes, you'd want me to do it anyway. I just... I'm not like you, Max."

"Like me?"

"Selfless. You care about everyone around you, but me? I could give less of a shit about what happens around me."

Max placed a hand on Chloe's shoulder, causing Chloe to look back at her. "You care more than you know. I almost tore up that photo during the storm, but you told me about all the people who didn't deserve to die. You said they deserved to live more than you."

"I did? What a mind job. Thinking about a sacrifice I never made."

"It's a total trip, I know. I felt the same when you told me I sacrificed myself in an alternate future."

Chloe scoffed. "God, we're just two peas in a pod. Two fucked up time travelers going against a fucked up world."

"At least we've got the pod," Max replied cheekily.

"At least we've got the pod," Chloe nodded and repeated her.

Another bus rolled around and ground to a halt in front of them. Max wished Chloe could drive her truck around like she used to, but she had to remember that Chloe was still dead to the world. Speaking of which, Max wished she could tell her something comforting about not being able to see her parents, but nothing came to mind. Time would tell if and when she could make her reappearance to the world. Chloe was right. It really was a fucked up world.

"Let's go back to your place. It's getting cold out here."

"I hope it doesn't snow," Max muttered.

Chloe laughed. "Preach it, sista."

* * *

Back in Max's dorm, Chloe quickly flopped onto the bed, grabbing Max's pillow to her chest. Max gave her a funny look, to which Chloe responded with an innocent, "What?" Max shook her head and dropped her bag on the sofa. She crouched down, reaching under the bed. Chloe quickly sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed, still clutching the pillow to her chest. Her face dropped down right next to Max's as she peered under the bed.

"Whatcha lookin for?" she questioned.

Max pulled out a box from under her bed and set it in the middle of the room. It was a plain cardboard box with cutouts for handles and a battered sheet for a lid. A thin layer of dust collected on the top, and the movement sent it diffusing throughout the room.

"What's that?" Chloe asked, gesturing to the box.

Max began to pull open the lid. "After you... well...after you died, Joyce gave me a bunch of your stuff. Mostly old pictures of us when we were still pirates."

She handed Chloe a large binder stuffed with pages of plastic photo protectors. Chloe blew on the cover to clear the dust and began flipping through the pages. Her face lit up as she traced a finger across the surface of the pages. Max jumped onto the bed and sat next to her, chin hovering over Chloe's shoulder.

"I haven't seen these pictures in forever. Talk about memory lane."

"Hey, look at you with your natural hair."

"You're killing me, Max. I want my blue back."

"We already discussed this. If someone sees you-"

"Yeah yeah, the world's going to destroy itself in an apocalyptic time paradox. Whatever."

"Don't jinx it! Between the two of us, there's a chance of that actually happening."

"I guess you're right."

They would take turns pointing out different pictures and recalling the various memories attached to them. The nostalgia was nearly overwhelming, and if Max could have described what it felt like, she would have simply said  _sappy_. But as sappy as it felt to bring up all of their happy memories together as pirates running along the shores of Arcadia Bay, it was genuinely comforting to be in Chloe's presence. Sure, they had already done this in Max's memories, and Chloe had experienced similar nostalgia from her timeline, but this was different. To sit together after weeks of shitty circumstances and world-ending storms, it was nice to finally relax with the one person who washed away all memory of her problems in a sea of mischief and care-free mentality.

Thinking about how Chloe made her feel reminded Max about her mental reminder she had made earlier. What were the two of them? Besides the two fucked up time travelers Chloe had so eloquently described them to be. Max told Chloe she loved her, and she meant it. She had never felt this way about anyone before, ever. Though it was only their second day reunited, the promise of seeing Chloe at the end of every day was a source of incredible joy that pierced through the dull drudgery of school. She couldn't help herself but smile a bit when she saw Chloe, both in her dorm and outside. And the realization that this was only their second day together did nothing to suppress that joy. The only fear Max felt was from uncertainty. What if Chloe didn't feel the same way? The question ate at her very being, even as Max did her best to keep up with the conversation brought up with every picture Chloe pointed out. She would have to ask.

"So...about last night..." Max began slowly.

"Wow Max, where'd you get that line? Another cheesy rom com?" Chloe asked in a snarky tone.

"Been digging through my movies, have we now?" Max smirked.

Chloe shrugged in defeat. "What else am I supposed to do all day when you're at school?"

Max grinned. "I suppose it does get boring in here."

A coy smile slowly spread itself across Chloe's lips. "You started this talk, but it's so obvious you don't know what to say. It's cute."

Max turned red as her mouth opened, but she couldn't find the words to say.

Chloe laughed. "Relax, Mad Max. I know what you want to talk about, and to be honest, I wanted to talk too."

Max's lungs nearly exploded from the sudden relief Chloe's words brought. "Really?" she asked breathlessly.

"Of course," Chloe said as if it were obvious. "You want to talk about the sex we had. Do you want a round two or something? Because it was good," she said matter-of-factly.

Max turned even redder, if it was physically possible. Her mouth was frozen in its half opened state. Finally after regaining brain function after the surely traumatic shock she had just experienced, she spoke. "That's...not...what I was talking about..."

Chloe was taken aback by this as well. "Oh. I thought...oh. Whoops," Chloe stammered with embarrassment. Now it was her turn to turn red. "Well um...what did you... _actually_  want to ask?"

"Are we together?" Max finally spit out. Chloe's face of embarrassment slowly changed into one of radiance.

"That depends on if you ask me out or not," Chloe said, unable to contain the excitement rising in her voice.

Max's grin went ear to ear as she hopped off the bed. She stood in front of Chloe, taking her hands in her own and holding them out between them. She took a deep breath. "Chloe Price, will you be my girlfriend?"

Chloe hopped off the bed to face Max. "Only if you get to be mine."

They threw their arms around each other, giggling slightly. Their giggles slowly grew louder until they turned into hysterical joyous laughter. They were nearly jumping up and down together before Max had to shush both of them as to not draw too much attention from other rooms. Max broke out of the hug.

"Hold on a second. There's something else I want to show you."

"Uh oh. What's Mad Max plotting now?"

Max dug through the box and pulled out a tube.

"What is that?" Chloe asked with wide eyes.

"I thought you of all people would recognize it."

"I  _know_  what that is. Is that mine? Why do you have it?"

"I don't know if your mom meant to give it to me or not. Either way, I held onto it. Since you can't have your hair the way you wanted it, I figured this was a good way to make up for your loss. So..." Max held out the tube towards Chloe. "I'm going to need some help."

Chloe's eyebrows shot up. "Holy shit, Max."

"I don't want to go too crazy. Just a streak to test it out, you know?"

"Are you sure?"

"Not at all."

"Then you'd better get sure, 'cause you're gonna look like a freakin' badass after I'm done with you!"

Chloe skipped to the bathroom with glee, dragging a frightened Max by the wrist behind her.

"Oh dear."

Chloe threw open the shower curtain and gestured to the bench in the stall. Max sat down on the shower bench while Chloe pulled on a pair of gloves. Max was shifting in her seat nervously. For one, she was absolutely terrified of the possibility of someone walking in on them. It was hard enough hiding Chloe in her room and sneaking her food during the day, and being in a bathroom shared with others familiar with Chloe was incredibly dangerous. The other thing that made her nervous was the whole prospect of dying her hair in the first place. It was so unlike her to dye her hair a crazy shade of blue. Then again, maybe that part of her personality was just dormant, waiting for Chloe to waltz in and rouse it from its slumber. Maybe she liked when Chloe brought out that side of her. That seemed scary too.

"You're gonna want to comb that out first," Chloe pointed at the slight tangles in Max's hair. "Also, strip."

"What?" Max asked incredulously.

"You have a comb right? You need to take out the kinks in your hair before I dye it."

"Of course I have-" Max sputtered trying to find words. "That's not what I..." The comb totally wasn't why she asked _what_.

"Take off your shirt," Chloe said nonchalantly.

Max gulped. So she _did_  hear Chloe correctly.

"My shirt?" she asked with dread.

"Yeah, unless you want everything from your waist up to be blue too." Sensing Max's inhibitions, Chloe added, "Oh come on, it's nothing I haven't seen before.  _And liked_ ," she added under her breath.

"And _what_?" Max asked again.

"You say  _'what'_  a lot, huh? And you heard me," Chloe said with a wink. "Now, comb your hair already. I'll grab a towel."

Max quickly turned a bright red, trying to cover her face as she combed out her hair. When Chloe finally returned with a towel, Max was still there on the shower bench, still very much red, and very much embarrassed. Chloe stood there staring at her just a millisecond longer than Max would've cared for, and she shot Chloe a glare. Chloe quickly threw the towel around her shoulders with a grin. Chloe pointed to the mirror opposite the shower stall, where Max could see her fearful reflection and Chloe's mischievous smile.

"Time to turn you into a badass," she said with a smirk.

* * *

A short while later, Max had to admit it really wasn't all that bad. If there was anyone she could trust to dye her hair, it was Chloe. Her experienced fingers moved skillfully through her hair, resulting in a two-inch segment of light blue strands that Max swept to the side behind her ear. The end result wasn't nearly as terrible as she imagined. The point wasn't really for fashion, otherwise Max wouldn't have even bothered dying her hair. In reality, she had done this for Chloe, to give her hope that one day things would return to normal and she could go on living her life.

As Chloe removed the towel from Max's shoulders, her triumphant grin suddenly faded. She covered her mouth in shock and backed away.

"Ha ha," Max let out sarcastically. "It's hideous, isn't it?"

Max expected Chloe to join her in a sarcastic comment, but she remained unmoving, her face frozen in fear. Now it was Max's turn to worry. "Hey, what's wrong?" she said, grabbing Chloe's shoulders. Chloe shook her head and removed her hand from her mouth, rubbing her temples. She was backed against the sink now, leaning on it for support.

"I...it's just deja vu, that's all," she mumbled.

Max's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Chloe, talk to me. What's wrong?"

Chloe couldn't make eye contact with Max, only staring down at the bottle of dye in her hand. Her hands were shaking now, and Max held them in her own, her eyes pleading with Chloe's to understand what was wrong.

"It...it was a vision I had," Chloe stammered.

"The one with us on the dock?" Max asked, recalling the dream Chloe had told her earlier.

"Sorta. There was a second vision after it, like they were connected. There was another storm and it was huge, I'm talking like  _massively_ huge here," Chloe gestured by spreading out her arms. "And you were there. We were near the lighthouse, and your hair was blue."

"All of it?" Max asked.

"No, just a streak. Exactly what you have now. I...I didn't even think about my dream when you asked me to help dye your hair. Max, what if I saw the future?" Panic began to rise in Chloe's voice.

"Then we'll face the future together," Max said, taking a step towards Chloe. "I don't think that I was given my powers for no reason. I know it's dumb and cheesy, but...I can feel it. I can't tell you how I know, but I just  _know_  that there's something we were meant to do. This is the  _second_  second chance I've gotten, and I'm not wasting it."

Chloe wrapped her arms around Max and buried her face into her shoulder. The two stood there for what felt like hours, drawing comfort from the embrace. They cleaned up the mess they had made in the bathroom and headed back to Max's room where Chloe took her usual spot sitting on the edge of Max's bed.

"Hey, um," she started with a chuckle. "I'm sorry for bitching out on you earlier."

Max waved her off. "You don't need to apologize. You're right. I need to be more careful now that there are more dangerous players in the game."

Chloe nodded understandingly. "Do you still have that attorney's number?"

Max looked up from the sofa in surprise. "Yeah, I do. Are you sure you want me to do this?"

Chloe nodded solemnly. "Call her."

* * *

_October 23, 2013  
Wednesday_

The building nothing like what Max expected it to be. The walls stretched upward to end in a high vaulted ceiling in the lobby, accented by occasional ornate pillars. A sunroof set in the center of the ceiling was the primary light source for the entrance. There was a woman who sat at the large wooden desk at the front of the lobby, probably a secretary. Max could tell that the woman knew she was lost, and the woman smiled welcomingly at her. Max walked up to her.

"Good morning," Max said, trying to sound confident.

"Good morning," the woman replied warmly. "How can I help you?"

Max put the business card on the desk and slid it forward. "I have an appointment with Tamara Nelson."

The secretary took a moment to read the card. "Ah, yes! You must be Maxine."

Max let out a small laugh. "Just Max, never Maxine."

The secretary chuckled in response. "Max it is. You're a little early, but don't worry about that! Early is good. Ms. Nelson is in her office, second floor, room 2101. I'll let her know you're here."

A short elevator trip and walk later, Max found herself at the entrance to Tamara Nelson's office. The door was slightly ajar, and the lights were on. From outside, Max could hear bits and pieces of a conversation between Tamara and someone else she couldn't hear. She was probably on her phone, not expecting Max to arrive so early. Not wanting to eavesdrop too long, Max knocked on the door, pushing it open slightly as she did so.

"Hello?" she asked softly.

The door swung open a crack further to reveal Ms. Nelson sitting in her chair holding her phone up to her ear with her elbow propped up on the arm rest, thoughtfully reading from a file. She looked up from the file to see Max standing in the doorway and she smiled, mouthing the words  _"one second."_  A few more  _mhm_ 's and  _uh-huh_ 's later, she interrupted the person on the other line.

"Hey listen, I'm going to have to call you back. A client just came in," she said, nodding to Max. Another pause. "Yeah, that sounds good! Love you too."

She hung up and placed the phone on the desk, returning the file to a pile on her desk and folding her hands on top of it. Max stood sheepishly in the doorway, slightly embarrassed she had interrupted the conversation. Ms. Nelson didn't seem to mind, and beckoned her over.

"Ms. Nelson," Max greeted as she shook her outstretched hand.

"Hi, Max. And you can call me Tamara. I like what you did with your hair," she gestured to the strands of blue hair that Max kept tucked behind her ear. Max felt her ears grow hot from the compliment, knowing that Tamara didn't understand the significance of the blue.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"You didn't have that when I talked to you earlier, did you?" Tamara asked.

Max smiled a bit. "No, I did it...well, a  _friend_  did it for me last night."

"Ah. My memory still holds," she grinned, tapping her fingers to her temple. "Why don't you have a seat? Sorry about that, I was scheduling dinner plans and I didn't know you'd be here so early."

"I didn't want to keep anyone waiting," Max explained as she took the chair. "I know you're probably busy with other cases."

"Don't worry about that. Being early is a good habit. Now I believe we have some business to take care of, yes? You're here already, so I'm assuming that means you still want to testify."

"Yeah, but..."

"Max, it's perfectly normal to be nervous about this. Standing in front of the jury like that is-"

"No, that's not it," Max interrupted.

"Oh? What then?" Tamara asked in a caring voice.

"I'll testify for you, but...I'll need some things in return."

"Oh." Max's request seemed to catch Tamara off guard. "I...well...what do you mean? What are you asking for?"

Max sucked in a deep breath as discreetly as she could. The last thing she wanted to give off was any sign of nervousness. "I want answers. And protection."

Tamara's eyebrows furrowed. "Answers? Perhaps I could help you if you asked your questions first," she replied coolly. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know what happened to Mark Jefferson."

Tamara's eyebrows raised and her gaze froze on Max's. Her mouth was slightly opened, as if still searching for words that had lost themselves on their way out of her vocal cords. She quickly collected herself and cleared her throat, leaning back against her chair.

"Mark Jefferson," Tamara confirmed. Max nodded expectantly. Tamara cleared her throat again. "What did you hear about him?"

"I heard he's dead," Max said flatly.

She tilted her head slightly. "How did you hear that?"

"It doesn't matter," Max said dismissively.

Tamara sighed. "Yes, well I suppose the police showing up at Blackwell did raise some red flags. I told those buffoons to keep a low profile and send some plain-clothes detectives, but  _oh no_ , they just  _had_  to send in a squad of uni's. Word travels fast in a small town." She leaned forward with her fingertips pressed together in front of her face. "Listen, Max. You're a smart girl. I trust you. So I think you'll understand why I'm asking you to not repeat this to anyone, not even your best friends."

Max nodded but couldn't help thinking about the irony of the situation.  _I'm hiding my resurrected girlfriend with time control powers in my dorm room, so you tell me which one of us has the bigger secret to keep._

Tamara spoke in a low voice, "Mark Jefferson was being transferred from the county prison to the Oregon State Penitentiary...when he died in a car crash."

_"If they don't tell you everything about Jefferson's death, you get up and walk out of there, you understand me?"_

Chloe's advice from the previous night rang loudly in her head. A car crash? This was a bunch of bullshit. Jefferson was shot in the head and thrown into a ditch. Max put on her best surprised face as her eyes widened. "A car crash?"

"A car crash," Tamara confirmed as she nodded. "The driver said that the transport truck flipped over after the tires blew out, and the whole thing went up in flames. Jefferson was in the back and...I guess he didn't make it since he was handcuffed."

"That's...horrible," Max finally said, trying to sound genuine. "And here I was, thinking that he tripped and fell on a loaded gun and blew his brains out. Go figure."

The friendly expression drained from Tamara's face almost immediately. Max could see her fists clenching as her knuckles began to turn white. Tamara breathed in deeply, trying to regain her composure.

"What are you talking about?" she pressed in a low steady voice that was on the verge of a growl.

"Word travels fast in a small town," Max echoed her words as she got up to leave.

"Hold on, where are you going?" Tamara asked with panic rising in her voice.

"I know what happened to Jefferson. He was shot in the head, and the only reason you wouldn't tell me this off the bat is if you have the same theory that I do: Jefferson was killed by the Prescott family so that anything he knows will die with him. If you think for one second that I'm going to walk blindly into that courtroom for you and paint a target on my back, you're wrong."

Max was already halfway to the door when Tamara got up from her seat as well.

"Wait!" she called after Max.

Max paused in her tracks and was thankful she was facing away from Tamara to conceal her triumphant grin. The gamble had worked, and now she could get both information on Jefferson while still being able to help put Nathan away. She turned around slowly and quickly got rid of her grin.

"I...I'm sorry for not telling you everything. To tell you the truth, I didn't call you in to testify. I just needed to know you were willing to help. If you help me and my plan works, we can put Nathan away for a long time."

Tamara's words toppled Max's triumphant power play into a slurry of confusion. "What do you mean you didn't call me to testify?"

Tamara nodded towards the door. "Close the door, please."

Max pushed the door shut and walked slowly back to the desk, taking the seat opposite the attorney. Tamara pulled out a key from her pocket which she inserted into one of the desk drawers. The key turned with a click and the drawer slid out. Max was on the edge of her seat trying to figure out what Tamara was doing when she pulled out what looked like a small square of cardboard, although much thinner. She held it up for Max to see.

"Any idea what this is?" she asked.

Max shrugged. "A really special post-it note?"

Tamara nearly snorted. She placed the square onto a plastic device attached to her computer.

_"A really special post-it note?"_ came the voice played off her computer speakers.

"That's a recorder?" Max asked in surprise.

"Cutting edge gear," Tamara said with a proud smile. "These cost me a pretty penny, but the information these things gather is priceless."

"Hang on a second. Information gathering? What are you asking me to do?"

"Look, Max. You need to understand something first. You and I both know that the Prescott family has a lot of power, a lot of influence, and some damn good lawyers. We can definitely get him for the murder of that poor girl Chloe Price, but the rest of his and Jefferson's victims, and especially Rachel Amber, will be more difficult to prove. The problem with Rachel Amber's case is that the majority of the evidence is circumstantial. Given the fact that many witnesses were from Rachel's drug circle and aren't exactly citizens of repute, the defense might be able to dismiss some of the witnesses as unreliable."

"What about Jefferson? Did the police get any information out of him?"

Tamara shook her head in disappointment. "He kept his mouth shut the entire time. He was smart, but maybe too smart for his own good. Jefferson was Nathan's closest contact and accomplice, and without his testimony it'll be hard to tell how many of the Dark Room girls were Jefferson's doing or Nathan's."

"So what do you want me to do?"

Tamara removed the tiny square from her computer and slid it across the desk to Max. "I need you to talk Nathan Prescott into confessing to the murder of Rachel Amber."


	7. The Count of Monte Crisco

**Chapter 7 - The Count of Monte Crisco**

* * *

Tamara Nelson folded her hands in front of her on the desk and spoke slowly.

"I need you to talk Nathan Prescott into admitting to the murder of Rachel Amber."

Max's blood ran cold at the thought. "Wha...what? Y-you want me to...get Nathan to talk? But..." Max ran a shaky hand through her hair causing the blue strand that she kept tucked behind her ear to fall loose into her face. It hung there inches away from her nose, and her heavy breaths sent it swaying side to side. She tucked it back behind her ear as she gulped.

"I understand that this is a huge request, and I know that this is a lot to ask. I need to know if you can do this. I need to know you're strong enough."

Max shook her head with uncertainty. "I...I don't know."

"Nathan is currently in a holding cell at the county jail," Tamara continued. "He's allowed to have visitors but you can't bring any electronic devices inside. My recorder can get past the metal detectors."

"And you want me to get a recording of his confession?" Max asked dubiously.

"Yes," Tamara replied matter-of-factly.

"He's not going to want to talk to me. Frankly, I'm not sure I want to talk to him either," she added darkly.

"You can get him to talk. He feels remorse, I know it. You just need to get him to show it."

"He killed my best friend!" Max shouted at Tamara.

Tamara chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "Then walk away."

Max was taken aback. "What?"

"I said walk away," Tamara repeated herself firmly. "You could walk away and never even think about Nathan again. You don't have to take part in this trial, and you can go back home to your cushy life as a Blackwell student. You can take pictures of the sunset on Fridays and curl up with a good book on Saturdays. And on Tuesdays, maybe you can go out with the girls and grab tacos and talk about boys and who's crushing on who. I don't know, maybe you'll even go see that new Sandra Bullock movie _Gravity_  that everyone's talking about."

"What's your point?" Max muttered through gritted teeth.

"My point is that we all have choices. You can either get on board and help me, or you can leave and never deal with this again. But if you choose to walk out that door, don't come back and change your mind. If you're not ready to help me now, you'll never be ready, ever."

Tamara took back the recording square from her computer and placed it back into the small plastic container she had retrieved it from. The container thudded in the bottom of the wooden drawer which was slammed shut, no doubt for dramatic effect from Tamara, who had laid all her chips out on the table for Max to call. Tamara was right. If Max wanted to help, there could be no half-assing anywhere. The Prescott family was too well connected and far too powerful to make a half-assed run at. If she was to help Tamara with her case, she had to be all-in, completely committed to seeing this through to the very end, no matter how sticky the journey would get.

Max clenched her jaw as she pulled out her phone to take notes. "What's the address of that jail?"

A thin smile spread across Tamara's lips.

* * *

"She asked you to do  _what_?" Chloe asked incredulously.

Max leaned back on the sofa, plucking the strings of her guitar absently. Muscle memory allowed her to play songs while still being able to maintain conversation, which was what she was doing now. But Chloe's change in tone signaled that maybe she should take a break from playing to explain herself. She set down the guitar.

"She asked me to record Nathan's confession," Max said.

Chloe let out a short bark of laughter that Max wasn't sure was genuine or not. "And you agreed?" she asked, moving the pillow cradling her neck as she lay on the bed. Chloe obviously wasn't comfortable with the idea of Max dragging a confession out of Nathan Prescott, and her discomfort manifested physically as she shifted restlessly on Max's bed. While Max was worried Chloe might rebuff her proposition, she had to agree with Tamara on this point. She had already committed to helping put Nathan away, and that meant not even Chloe could affect her decision. Sometimes Chloe in all of her brashness was a little too headstrong with her decision making, basing everything off of raw emotion, which was usually anger but in this case selfishness. This was something Max had to do, whether or not Chloe supported it.

"Yeah, I agreed," Max said solemnly.

Chloe huffed and leaned her head back against the soft pillow as if to avoid Max's gaze. Her legs were crossed at her ankles which she propped up on the footboard of the bed. Her hands were clasped behind her head, and though Max couldn't tell from where she sat, Chloe's eyes were most likely shut against the world. It was her classic  _don't bother me_  pose that Max knew oh so well. It usually made its appearance when Chloe was either lighting up or upset with Max. Since she definitely wasn't lighting up, this time was most likely the latter.

"Look, you told me to call her," Max reminded Chloe.

Chloe lay unmoving but replied anyway. "Yeah, but that was when you were just going to testify! This is different."

"Are you mad at me?" Max asked bluntly.

Max detected a near-snort from Chloe before the girl responded. "No," she said as if it were obvious.

Max rolled her eyes. "So what are you?"

Chloe didn't respond for a bit, but moved her hands from behind her head to crossing her arms across her chest. She let out a heavy sigh. "I dunno. Scared?"

"Scared that something might happen to me?" Max continued for her.

Chloe chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Yeah," she confirmed finally.

"Me too," Max agreed. "But I have to do this," she added.

Max couldn't see it, but the faintest ghost of a smile graced Chloe's lips. "I know," she said softly.

Chloe lifted her legs in the air and kicked down, using the momentum to swing her body up off the bed. She swung her legs around and dangled them off the bed, leaning her back against the wall so that she could see Max. Though Chloe was trying to make eye contact with her, Max was staring off into a corner of the room, deep in thought. Chloe grinned again.

"So, Mad Max, what's the plan?"

Max looked at her in surprise. Maybe she was too used to Chloe being so protective and emotionally charged that she forgot the bold side of Chloe that wouldn't back down from someone giving her shit. There was a determined glint in her eye that told Max she was ready to stand by her side and take down Nathan, ready to take on all that their quest would entail. Max grinned back.

"We're going to need a car."

* * *

Besides Chloe, Warren was one of the few people Max could trust with a secret. She had already revealed to him her abilities, and he took it surprisingly well. Maybe it was his familiarity with sci-fi media that opened his mind to the possibility of otherworldly powers. Or maybe it was because no one would be that insane to make up a story as batshit crazy as Max's. Whichever it was, Max stood at Warren's door, hoping to call upon that trust once more.

She knocked and after a few moments the door opened to reveal a surprised Warren.

Max smiled. "Hey, Warren."

"Oh! Hi, Max. Nice hair, by the way," he mentioned as he gestured to the lock of blue. Max grinned in embarrassment.

"Heh, thanks."

"So what's been eating you lately?" he asked casually.

Max shrugged and ran a hand through her hair. "A lot of shit has happened, and it's taken me a while to process."

Warren nodded, "You're talking about your time travel powers, right?"

Max shrugged again, a sheepish grin coming over her face. "I guess so, yeah."

Warren raised his hands expectantly. "So...anything you want to share? You know I'm here for you, Max."

Max ran her hand through her hair again. "Thanks, I know. There's actually something I could use help with."

That seemed to light up Warren's face. "Really? What's up? Need me to model for your photography portfolio? Want me to build a flux capacitor?" he added with a snicker.

Max laughed back. "Well if you had a DeLorean, that would be awesome too." But in a more serious note added, "Um... I need to borrow your car."

Warren's eyes widened. "Wow. My car? What for?"

Max chewed on her lip nervously. "I...need to go somewhere tomorrow, and it's kinda far."

"How about I just drive you there instead? It would be a good time to catch up, you know?"

Though it would be nice for Warren to drive her there, she wanted to involve as few people as possible. She still didn't know how safe she was, given her involvement with Nathan's case. The last thing she wanted to do was drag more innocent bystanders into an already sticky situation.

Max shook her head sadly. "Look, I'm sorry I can't be more specific, but... I can't let you come with me."

"Where are you going? The future?" Warren asked, echoing  _Back to the Future._

"I can't tell you that. It... it's complicated."

Warren's face sank. "Aw, come on, Max! If you're going you borrow my car at least tell me where you're going. What's with the whole secretive thing anyway? You told me about your powers and I haven't told a single soul! I thought you trusted me."

"I do! I'm sorry Warren, it's just that..."

"It's just what?" he asked, obviously disappointed.

Max was getting frustrated now. Couldn't Warren see that she was just trying to keep him out of trouble? "It's dangerous, alright? This thing has already taken a lot from me, and I don't want you to get involved. I've lost enough already."

"Hang on, does this have to do with Chloe?"

"Warren..." Max began.

"No answers, no car," he said definitively.

Max held a hand to her forehead, weighing her options. None of the bus routes took her past the prison, and Tamara couldn't exactly send one of her fleet vehicles to pick her up. That would make her involvement too obvious. She could call a cab, but the prison was quite far, and she didn't have the money to throw at a cab. Borrowing a car was the best option, and she had to convince Warren  _somehow_.

Max sighed deeply. "You can't breathe a word of this to anyone, okay? Otherwise... bad things might happen."

Warren scoffed. "Seems like bad things follow you and your powers around everywhere."

Max sucked in air. "I'm going to the county jail to talk to Nathan."

Warren gaped. "You're going to do  _what_?"

Max hushed him and looked around nervously. "Please, not a word. The state attorney came to me and I'm helping the case by trying to get Nathan to confess to Rachel Amber's murder."

"I must be hearing things, because it sounds like you're going to interrogate him. Are you playing good-cop bad-cop or something?"

"No, I'm going alone."

Warren crossed his arms. "The hell you are."

"I have to do this by myself," Max repeated, firmer this time.

"I'm not asking to interrogate him for you, I'm just asking you to let me drive you there!"

"No!" she blurted suddenly.

Warren took a step back, shocked by Max's sudden outburst. Max herself was just as shocked.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so... mean," she apologized with guilt.

"I get it. You're under a lot of stress," Warren waved her off. Though he forgave her in words, his tone sounded like he was still hurt. Max felt even more guilty now.

"This whole thing has gotten my mind doing back flips twenty-four seven," she explained, trying to make amends.

Warren dug in his pocket and held out his keys with a defeated look.

"Max, whatever it is you're involved with... please be careful," he said, eyes full of worry.

"I will," Max assured him.

"Not a scratch!" Warren smirked as he closed the door.

* * *

_October 24, 2013  
Thursday_

Max went out to the parking lot, looking for Warren's blue SUV. Pressing the key fob a couple of times to make it beep, she finally found it parked against the far side of the parking lot next to a few other trucks. As she rounded the back of the car, she heard a voice that halted her in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice called. A shadow stretched across the hood of the car before the figure behind it came into view. Chloe.

Max breathed a sigh of relief. "You know where I'm going."

"I meant where do you think you're going without your loyal sidekick?"

Chloe was persistent as she leaned casually against the driver's side door, folding her arms across her chest as she blocked Max's way. That mischievous smirk that Max had grown to both love and fear was once again present on Chloe's face. Max rolled her eyes in surrender. She clicked the key fob as the passenger side unlocked, eliciting a shout of joy from Chloe. Chloe held out her hand for the keys.

Max raised an eyebrow. "I thought the superhero drives."

"You're not the only one with powers."

Max pulled the door shut and started the engine. "Whatever you say,  _Robin_."

Chloe's face of shock was priceless, and Max wished she had her camera here to capture it. Chloe shot Max a mock glare and walked around the car and plopped down in the passenger seat.

"Wow, Max. So bossy all of a sudden. Who are you trying to impress?" Chloe asked with a snicker.

Max ignored her, putting the blue SUV into reverse and looking over her shoulder. Without looking in Chloe's direction, she winked. Chloe caught the subtle gesture and threw her head back in laughter, kicking her feet up on the dash.

* * *

A prison by any other name would feel just as suffocating. Even though this building was technically just the county jail, the towering hunks who made their rounds glaring at every living being not behind bars made it seem like this was a maximum security prison. The visitor's entrance seemed no better than the back of the prison that held the prisoner's entrance. The front office was dark and dingy, obviously a few decades behind in renovations. The fluorescent bulbs affixed to the ceiling emitted a strange greenish glow that hurt Max's eyes to look at. If she didn't know any better, this could be the front lobby for a seedy motel.

A smallish hawk-nosed man sat at the desk, peering over at a computer screen, looking over the rims of his glasses. Max went up to the window as his thin face slowly turned towards her, his beady eyes sizing her up through the undoubtedly bulletproof glass. She managed the faintest of smiles in an attempt to force herself to seem approachable. She hoped that this would in turn make the man also seem more approachable. Her smile faded as she realized it didn't.

"Hello," she began steadily. "I would like to visit one of the inmates here."

The thin faced man stuck out his chin and adjusted his glasses with pretentious precision. He turned to the computer and made a few clicks.

"Name?" he croaked.

"Nathan Prescott," Max said firmly. She shifted in her stance, shoving her hands in her pockets and looking absently around the lobby. Truth be told, there really was nothing appealing to look at in the lobby. She just wanted to look like she belonged, or that she was preoccupied. The sound of a clipboard sliding across the laminate countertop relieved her of her boredom, and she took the clipboard from the man.

"You need to sign those first," he said in a slow drawl. " The guard will remain outside unless you call him in. For your safety, please stay away from the bars and do not give the prisoner items of any kind. Your conversation will be monitored on video."

Max gave the forms a quick read while she filled out all of the necessary information. She found it almost funny that there were liability waivers preventing visitors from suing the prison in the case that a prisoner escaped and injured them. Not exactly the most reassuring policy for a jail. As she read through the forms, she hoped she wasn't missing anything. Maybe she should've given the forms to Tamara to sign for her. After all, she was a lawyer.

She slid the clipboard back through the tiny slot in the window, and the man took the forms. Once again adjusting his glasses, he skimmed through the sections where Max's signature was required. Satisfied, he pressed a button on what looked like a phone console.

"Visit to cell 19781," he said gruffly into the microphone.

A short while later, the door leading to the rest of the prison buzzed open and in walked a short stocky guard. He looked at Max and indicated that she was to follow him. He was no doubt her escort through the prison, you know, just in case if one of those prisoners escaped like the forms mentioned.

"Ma'am, I need you to place all metallic objects in this bin," the guard said as he held out a plastic container. Max pulled her phone and keys out of her pocket and placed them in the bin, which the guard then placed inside a small locker. The guard walked through the doorway, which Max realized concealed a metal detector. The recording patch on her shoulder blade suddenly felt immensely heavy and bulky, even though it was paper thin. Nervously, she rubbed the same shoulder, tracing the outline of the patch through her jacket. The guard gestured for her to walk through, and she complied, holding her breath as she did so. When the metal detector didn't go off, she let out a steady exhale. Tamara's patch had worked.

Maybe it was from watching too many prison scenes in movies, but Max expected to be walked through the center of a towering room with jail cells lining the walls, hearing chants and jeers as the prison guards passed by. Instead, she was walked through what felt like a maze. The hallways were quiet and secluded, passing through corridors with many doors, none of them with open viewports. She had no idea where she was or how deep she was in the jail.  _Maybe I should've watched Shawshank before coming here._

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a cell marked 19781. Max felt her heart speed up as her hands clenched into fists. Subconsciously her teeth ground together in anger, and it wasn't until she accidentally bit her tongue did she realize what she was doing. She took a few deep breaths before nodding to the guard, who used his card key to swipe open the door. The heavy door swung open on its rusted hinges, squeaking loudly throughout the otherwise empty halls. Max stepped inside the room.

The room wasn't large at all, under a hundred square feet at the most, with the actual cell taking only half of the room. A wall of thick steel bars separated the room into a visitor's area and the actual cell. There was a single cot that hung from the far side of the cell. Next to it sat its lone occupant, back against the cold concrete excuse for walls, knees drawn up with his head sunken into his chest. Max looked up and took note of the same fluorescent green light that she had seen in the lobby. A few minutes of that light was enough to drive her insane. She didn't understand how Nathan could deal with it for more than a few days. She was about to find out.

Nathan looked up at the only visitor he's had in weeks and scoffed. Max grimaced in reply. His face looked gaunt, and the greenish glow on his skin and orange jumpsuit made him look even more sickly than he probably was. For a brief moment she almost felt sorry for him, then quickly remembered Chloe's funeral.  _Remember why you're here. You're not here to sympathize. You're here to put him away in a place far worse than this._

A twisted smile formed at the corners of Nathan's lips. "Well look who decided to pay me a fucking visit."

Max scoffed back at him but didn't reply. Nathan sat there, waiting for Max to say something, but grinned smugly when he realized she was at a loss for words.

"What do you want, Max? Why are you here?" he asked not even trying to contain his displeasure at Max's appearance.

Max said nothing, deciding to pace and make Nathan sweat a bit. She walked back and forth in front of him, avoiding eye contact. That was the worst part for him, she realized. She was gloating her freedom but inches from his face. He had taken away her friend, and she was slowly taking his sanity. He growled as he continued to watch her saunter back and forth in front of his cell.

"I said, what the fuck do you want?" he roared out.

"I'm just visiting an old friend," Max said sarcastically.

Nathan forced laughter at Max's remark. "Your face twisted just a bit when you said ' _friend_ '. That was probably the funniest fucking thing I've seen all week."

Max grinned facetiously. "Oh really? Because this," she gestured to Nathan and the cell, "this is the funniest fucking thing I've seen too."

Nathan's forced laughter quickly turned dark as he glared at Max. "Did you just come here to gloat?" he jeered.

Max sat on the visitor's bench, crossing her legs. "No," she said simply.

"So what, then?" Nathan demanded angrily.

Max pretended to scratch her shoulder, but slipped a finger under her shirt and touched the patch, activating the recorder.

"I want to ask you a few questions."

"About what?" Nathan said, his guard down for a moment.

Max swallowed. "About Rachel Amber."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Fuck you," he spat.

She almost grinned at how terribly this conversation was already going. "I just want to know what she was like."

Nathan scoffed loudly. "Really? Ask anyone at Blackwell. They can tell you."

Max shook her head."You and I both know that her good girl appearance was nothing more than just that: an appearance."

Nathan raised an eyebrow at her. "Why do you even care? She was before your time."

"I'm writing a piece on her," Max lied quickly.

That elicited more forced laughter from Nathan. " _Bullshit_."

Max ignored him. "You remember Chloe Price?"

"Yeah." Nathan closed his eyes as if Chloe's ghost had suddenly materialized and was beginning to torment him. "I remember the punk. She was your friend, right?"

" _Was_ ," Max emphasized. "Rachel Amber was her best friend."

"Yeah, those two hung out constantly. Honestly, it was pretty fucking sad watching that punk follow Rachel around like a junkyard dog," Nathan added with a snort.

Max's fists clenched at Nathan's comments and she wished his neck was in between her palms. She breathed in deeply to control herself.

"Well from what I hear, those two were pretty similar."

Another bark of laughter from Nathan. "Ha! Sure they dressed the same and took drugs together, but that was it. Chloe was a complete bitching pain in the ass. Rachel...was nice."

"Rachel is also dead," Max added darkly.

"Look Max, I don't know what you're trying to do here-"

"You liked her, didn't you?" Max interrupted him.

Nathan's mouth was frozen halfway through an expletive, but eventually swallowed it and leaned his head back against the wall.

"Like I said, she was nice," he ended flatly.

"That's all you have to say about her?" Max pressed.

"Sure," Nathan muttered.

"Did she care about you?" Max asked, trying to direct the conversation.

Nathan looked at her quizzically. "Care? She cared about everyone, so I guess, yeah."

"So did you care about her too? You must've cared when she disappeared," Max fished.

Nathan's eyes narrowed as he sized up Max. "Maybe I did care. So what?"

"If you really cared about Rachel, you wouldn't be fighting this."

"Fighting?" he said, his tone growing more suspicious.

"I know what you did. Think about her family, Nathan. And what about the rest of those girls and their families? Do you have any idea what it's like to be drugged and violated with a camera lens like that?"

"That...that bitch sent you here didn't she?" he said with furrowed eyebrows.

_Fuck_. Maybe she pushed for a confession too soon. To her credit, she had gotten him to talk to her, even without much guidance from Tamara. Unfortunately, his current tone meant that her chances of drawing an explicit confession were growing slim. She knew nothing about interrogations and very little about criminal psychology. All she knew from this whole ordeal was the pain of it all and the way her heart ached for days every time she saw any little artifact that reminded her of Chloe.

Rachel was described as the poster girl of Blackwell, perhaps someone who embodied the very essence of what it meant to be a Blackwell student. With a girl as well liked and popular as she was, the echo of her soul had to linger around every corner, every classroom, every missing poster in Blackwell Academy. For Nathan, he would have been bombarded by her haunting spirit  _every single day,_  a constant reminder of his sins.

If Max could exploit that connection of guilt they shared, maybe she could convince him to giver himself up.

"Jefferson is dead," Max said bluntly. Luckily, her statement seemed to rattle Nathan and temporarily distract him from the fact that Max was sent by the state attorney.

"What do you mean? He's really...dead?"

Max nodded. "Shot in the head while in police custody."

"How is that even possible?" Nathan asked with his head in his hands.

"I was going to ask you that."

Nathan looked up at her with questioning eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I think your father sent someone to kill him so that he wouldn't rat you out during the trial."

Nathan glared at her. "You're going to sling shit around against my father? Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't know a single thing about my father or what he's like! So  _fuck you_!"

Max ran up to the bars again to shake the animal's cage. "Listen here, you son of a bitch," her voice sliced through the bars with venom, "I know exactly who your father is. He's probably scared shitless about his psychotic son destroying the precious Prescott name with a double murder scandal. But in the end he really doesn't give two shits about you. The only thing he cares about in life is success. That's why he throws money at crack psychiatrists to give you sugar pills as a temporary fix for a permanent problem. That's why he sends you to a fancy boarding school with fancy credentials for a life you don't even want. That's why he'll pay off the jury for a little misdemeanor charge and send you back into the real world when what you really need is help."

Nathan was nearly shaking with rage and looked as if he were about to explode. "You...have  _no_  idea...what he's like. You don't know him like I do."

"I don't need to. I just look at you. There's only one way for someone to turn out like how you did," she spat.

"You couldn't make me confess if you tortured me," Nathan growled.

"You're right," Max said abruptly. Nathan was once again caught off guard by her agreement. She continued, "Look around, Nathan. You're in a bubble of power. Nothing can touch you. Whereas for me? I don't expect to live out the week."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused.

"You were right, you know? I'm here to help put you away in prison. I'm going to testify against you in the trial. But I know that somehow, someway, your father is going to send someone to make sure I never make it to the trial. But you know something? I'd rather die bringing you to justice than live the rest of my life knowing you're going to go free," she affirmed with dangerous confidence.

Nathan scoffed. "Let me get this straight: you want me to give myself up because you  _think_  that my father is killing witnesses? That bitch attorney must be digging real deep in the witness pool if she sent you. I'm fucking tired of everyone trying to control me!"

"And I'm fucking tired of watching everyone around me die while you're standing there behind the trigger. I know what it's like to be helpless and controlled, being forced to watch the universe take a shit on my life. What does it feel like to kill someone?" she asked.

"Wha...what are you talking about?" he stammered, taken aback by the question.

Max stepped up to the bars, her face nearly pressed into the metal. Her glare would have melted the steel into a molten puddle if she had heat vision instead of time travel powers. "You heard me, Nathan. What did it feel like to kill Chloe Price? And Rachel Amber? Did you like it?" she sneered.

"I don't...I don't need to take this shit from you," Nathan spat back, trying to sound in control of his voice.

"Why don't you just kill me too, then? That's what you do, isn't it? Kill anyone who doesn't do what you want. That's why you killed Chloe, and that's why you killed Rachel. You can't stand anything you can't control."

"Shut the fuck up!" he said, his voice dangerously close to cracking.

Max ignored his pleas to stop. "Or is it something else? You know what I think? I think you like killing. I think you loved killing Rachel Amber so much that you decided to make it a package deal and go for her friend Chloe. To feel her body in your arms go limp and never move again, to see the light fade in her eyes as you drugged her in the Dark Room, I be you couldn't get enough."

"I said shut up!" he bellowed, jumping to his feet. "I...I didn't mean to," he whimpered, backing against the wall and collapsing into it. His sudden turn stunned Max. She had walked into the cell prepared to manipulate Nathan into confessing to the best of her ability. She was prepared to say everything and anything she thought would get a rise out of him and cause him to slip up. She was ready for him to do and say anything in retaliation. Ironically, she wasn't prepared for the one thing she was here to collect: his confession.

Max stood speechless at the cell bars, watching Nathan unravel before her. "I never wanted to hurt anyone...especially not Rachel. And I didn't mean to shoot Chloe either...I just...the gun slipped in my hand and...and..." he was unable to finish his sentence as huge sobs wracked his body.

"Walk me through what happened."

Nathan sniffed and coughed to get his trembling voice under control. "It...it was after a party and I told her I wanted to show her something. We went off to my room and we were having a few drinks. I spiked it and she passed out. I brought her to the bunker and started setting up, but she started to wake up early. I freaked out...so I grabbed the needle from the table...but..."

"You didn't think about the effect of two heavy sedatives," Max concluded for him.

Nathan shook his head. "She stopped moving, but it wasn't like the others. Still...too still. I panicked...I called Jefferson and he said he'd take care of everything. When he got there, he was helping me move her but I felt a prick in my neck and realized that he drugged me too."

"Jefferson drugged you?"

"He took pictures of me and Rachel lying together. In his words, he wanted to  _'capture the transformation of the layers of guilt'_  I embodied. Said if I told anyone what he did, he'd tell everyone I killed Rachel. I...I loved her."

That was it, Max realized. Jefferson was the only one who could've definitively pinned Rachel's murder on Nathan, and Sean Prescott probably had him killed to make the case ambiguous. With any luck, the defense would be able to push the blame completely onto Jefferson.

But with Nathan's recorded confession, there would be no chance of that happening.

Max backed away from the bars. "I...need to go."

Nathan looked up, confused. "W-where are you going?"

"I'm sorry. I'll get Tamara to put in a good word for a psychiatrist." Max backed towards the wall and pressed the intercom, asking for the guard. The door buzzed and the guard pushed the door open, looking around the cell to make sure nothing was out of place.

"Max, wait!" Nathan called. Max paused, and the guard watched her just in case anything happened.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. Max couldn't help but pity him. He finally sounded truly remorseful, but unfortunately for him the prosecution would show no mercy for the double murder of two girls, and especially not the long manifest of girls he and Jefferson had violated previously. Jefferson had the easy way out. Every jail sentence they would have shared was now hurled upon Nathan's lone shoulders for him to bear.

Max said nothing in response, only returning his remorseful apology with an equally remorseful frown of her own. The cell door closed behind her with a loud clang that sent shivers up her spine for the deed she had done.

* * *

Warren's blue SUV pulled up to the front of the prison with Chloe sitting at the helm. Chloe reached over and pushed open the passenger door and Max got in. Max leaned back into her seat, letting out a heavy sigh as she placed her hands behind her head. Chloe said nothing, understanding the ordeal Max had faced in talking to Nathan, a double murderer.

Max sensed that Chloe wouldn't talk unless if she started the conversation, so she began. "I did it."

Chloe glanced over at her, trying to gauge Max's comfort levels. "You got him to confess?"

Max nodded but kept her gaze directed out the window. Chloe stole another glance, but kept her eyes on the road realizing that Max didn't feel like talking. It must have been a terrible thing, having to convince someone to confess to the murder of your best friend. Chloe knew she wouldn't have been able to do it. She would've snapped exactly twenty seconds into the conversation, or not tried at all.

About halfway through the long drive back to Blackwell, a white van pulled up alongside them. Chloe noticed immediately, but didn't turn her whole head to make it obvious. She feigned laughter as she looked over in Max's direction to warn her.

"Hey," she said in between her fake laughs. "Nine o'clock. Creepy white van. What do you think?"

Max went along with it, returning fake laughter as she looked in Chloe's direction. The white van was keeping speed with them so Max tried to peer into their windows. Unfortunately, they were tinted and impossible to see through at this distance. Max shook her head.

"Can't see anything."

"Hm," Chloe grunted. "Well let's see what he does when I slow down."

Chloe eased her foot off the gas, watching the speedometer needle slowly retreat to the left. The van maintained distance for a moment before it sped up, passing them completely. Both girls breathed a sigh of relief as the van disappeared ahead of them. Admittedly, they were both on edge, and the van was probably just passing them by. Max leaned back in her seat, thankful the encounter had passed.

"I totally thought that the van was suspicious," Chloe explained.

"So did I," Max agreed.

Suddenly a black SUV pulled up beside them in similar fashion.

Chloe looked over. "What the-!"

Max yelped as the SUV swerved and deliberately crashed into theirs, swiping the entire side and breaking a few backseat windows in the process. Chloe gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, desperately trying to regain control of the car. Both girls felt their bodies being thrown around from the impact of the other vehicle.

"Holy  _fuck_!" Chloe burst out among various other expletives.

"Who is that?" Max cried aloud.

"So it  _wasn't_  the creepy white van?" Chloe replied over the rushing wind that invaded through the permanently opened windows.

"I guess not!" Max replied over the din.

"If it's not the creepy white van, then it's the black unmarked SUV. Just typical," Chloe muttered to herself as she floored the gas pedal.

Warren's SUV was barely holding together, even without all of the abuse from the other car. The other black car was definitely able to outrun them and Chloe was forced to play defense, keeping Warren's car in front of the SUV for as much of the trip back as possible, so as to avoid the potential of being pushed off the side of the road. Max was turned backwards in her seat, trying to keep track of where the other driver was.

Suddenly the rear windshield popped several times and shattered.  _Gun shots_ , Max realized. Max whirled back around in her seat and ducked as far down as she could. Chloe flinched as a bullet took out her rear view mirror and another landed on the inside of their windshield.

"They're shooting at us!" Chloe warned.

"I can hear that!" Max yelled back with a hint of annoyance.  _Of course she could hear the gun shots._

"We gotta get into the city!" Max added.

"I know." Chloe replied.

The black car continued pursuing them down the expressway and into the city, where Chloe had hoped to deter a full on attack by going to a public area. Max silently thanked the gods that somehow made every single light they encountered green. As she looked out the window watching her surroundings, she could've sworn she passed a speed limit sign that told her 40 was the fastest they should go. Looking over at the speedometer, the needle was pushing past a frightful 65. Normally she would have trusted Chloe's driving anyway, but being shot at while weaving in between cars added another layer of difficulty she didn't care for.

On the left side of the car, the other SUV quickly gained on them. Chloe gassed the Warren's car as much as she could, but the comparatively prehistoric vehicle only groaned in response, maxing out at a glorious 70 miles an hour. The other car overtook them easily, but didn't try to crash into them like they did before. Instead, a masked gunman leaned out of the passenger window pointing a pistol at their car. Chloe yelped and ducked as she heard the muffled cracks of the bullets against the glass. Chloe's window finally shattered, giving the gunman a clear shot at Max.

" _No!"_  Chloe cried as she threw her body over Max's.

She flinched as she expected the searing pain of a bullet or the crack of a gun, but neither came. She was still hovered over Max, grasping onto her wrist, when she finally forced her eyes open.

The scene before her was completely still. Particles of glass hung suspended midair, shimmering in the reflection of the sun. The SUV next to them was unmoving, though she still saw the passenger pointing his gun at her, hanging out the window. His blank expression didn't change a bit, and his finger remained fixed on the trigger. In fact, everything she saw looked fixed.

_Am I freezing time? Like the wave in my dream?_

"Chloe?" she heard a small voice beneath her. Max looked around in as much shock as Chloe had, taking in their frozen surroundings. Neither Warren's car nor the black SUV had made any progress on the road, and looking outside, neither did any of the other cars beside them.

"Are you doing that?" Chloe asked fearfully.

"No," Max replied hesitantly. "I can't freeze time like this. I mean I did it before, but just once, and not for this long. Chloe, I think...I think it's you."

"Holy shit," Chloe whispered.

Curious, she touched a finger to a single shard of suspended glass. Immediately, it unfroze and fell as if it had not been frozen midair for the past minute. It fell no faster and no slower than gravity would have normally dictated. It simply fell as if gravity had been put on pause and was now back from a short reprieve.

"You're right. I think it is me. But how?" she muttered to herself.

Suddenly a wave of dizziness overtook her, and things began to move again, though incredibly slowly. Chloe ran her finger under her nose and saw a streak of blood appear on her finger. Her head began to ache horribly and her vision began to blur.

"Max, I don't know how long I can hold-"

No sooner had she said this when Warren's car shot forward again, in line with the black SUV. The bullet ricocheted off the frame of their car, and Chloe jerked the wheel into the SUV beside them trying to throw it off. The maneuver worked, and the gunman pulled back inside the safety of the cabin to avoid being crushed by Warren's car. Chloe repeatedly rammed sideways into the SUV, finally evening the playing field. The SUV suddenly slowed down, remaining on the road behind them. Chloe let out a shout of triumph, but was cut short when Max pointed at the road ahead.

"Chloe, look out!"

Chloe didn't even have time to step on the brakes before the blue SUV smashed into the stopped car in front of them, crumpling both fenders into a mess of sheet metal that resembled an accordion. Thankfully the seatbelt locked which prevented her from rocketing straight through the windshield, but a good portion of her upper body flung forward into the airbag that deployed into her face. Almost immediately after, a second car crashed into the right side of Warren's truck, T-boning them and sending them skidding sideways across the road. Chloe's head whipped to the side and smacked painfully into the frame of the car, where she collapsed over the steering wheel. The last thing she saw before her vision went dark was Max sprawled over the dashboard, a large bleeding gash on the side of her head. Chloe stretched out a hand to wake her, but passed out before she could make a sound.

* * *

Chloe woke with a strange ringing in her ears. The white fluorescent lights that bathed everything she saw made her location clear: the hospital. She groaned as she forced herself up, her neck all the way down to her lower back aching the whole time, with the rest of her body protesting as well. After a few moments the ringing in her ears faded away, or maybe she just learned to ignore it. As she sat up to get a better view of the room, a sharp pain in her side halted her movements. She lifted up the hem of her shirt and saw a great purple spot over the left side of her rib cage, about the size of a large fist and protruding nearly as much. She rubbed the surrounding area gingerly, wincing as she felt the pain shoot through the rest of her nerves faster than a fork in a wall socket. From the discoloration and size of the offending mark, Chloe guessed her ribs were either bruised or maybe even broken. She leaned her head back onto her pillow and cursed to herself.

Her heart jumped a bit when she remembered she was supposed to be dead. The crash had rendered her unconscious which explained her memory gap where she was moved to the hospital. That meant that someone had seen the crash and reported it to the authorities, who would definitely have a record of  _two_  people in the accident, not just Max. Although Chloe had purposely left any form of identification in Max's room, she could only pray that no one recognized her in her brief period of unconsciousness. But according to Max, she was somewhat of a celebrity after Nathan's double murder scandal rocked the small town of Arcadia Bay.

Unable to sit up straight without severely paining herself, she rolled her head around on the pillow to get a better sense of where she was. She had been in one of these rooms before, in the other timeline visiting Max. Unlike before, she was the sole occupant of this room and there was no trace of Max.

Chloe threw the sheets off her body, noticing a thick bandage wrapped around her right shin. She swung her legs over the edge and carefully lowered herself down onto the floor, wincing as she put pressure on her right leg. Luckily it wasn't in a cast or a heavy brace, so it was probably just a contusion or at worse a bone bruise. She hobbled to the door while peering out its small window. Hoping no one was around, she grasped the handle and opened it slowly.

She peered out the door into the hall, watching the pattern of the nurses and other hospital staff rotate around the floor. While in a stroke of luck she still had her own clothes instead of a hospital gown, she still bore obvious signs of a major accident. The dirtied and partially torn clothes, the fresh scars on her face, the slight limp in her right leg; they all made it clear she was a bit premature in her check out. The troublemaker extraordinaire would have to rely on her years of experience in dodging watchful eyes, moving around unseen and remaining undetected.

There was a nurse who was making her circuit around the hall, checking the clipboards of all the rooms and taking a brief moment to copy the information on her own clipboard. With any luck, she would come to Chloe's room and pass it like the others, giving Chloe time to run while she was looking the other way. Chloe closed the door and went back to her cot, listening for the soft clatter of the clipboard outside her room. A few moments came and went, and finally the clatter came. Footsteps retreated down the hall, and Chloe cracked open her door again. Sure enough, the nurse had passed her room and was continuing down the hallway.

It would be impractical to check every single room for Max, so talking to the receptionist was her next best bet. Hopefully, the receptionist wouldn't ask too many questions about who she was, or notice that she was still a patient. As she looked down at her wrist, she saw she still had the plastic bracelet that identified her as a patient. Grabbing it with her other hand, she pulled on it as hard as she could, hoping to snap the band. Immediately, her side protested in pain, and she stopped. She didn't have time to look around the room for scissors, so she pushed it as far up her arm as possible and pulled her sleeve as far down as possible. Once she was content, she cracked open the door and walked out.

Chloe snorted to herself as she felt a sense of deja vu going to the receptionist in the hallway. A few days ago she was in the same hospital, asking for the same person. To her surprise, the same woman she had demanded information from before was again sitting at the desk. Except this time, she had no memory of Chloe's rude demands.

"Is there a patient named Max Caulfield on this floor?" Chloe asked.

The receptionist gave her a suspicious look after noticing Chloe's scars and the state of her clothing, but went to her computer anyway.

"I don't have a Max Caulfield on this floor," she said finally.

Chloe scratched her head and used her arm to block her face as she noticed several of the staff's lingering stares. "Well um...is she on a different floor?" she suggested.

The receptionist went back to her computer but shook her head. "Sorry, I don't see her in any of the rooms on any floor. Oh hang on," she added as she looked closer at the screen. "You're right. She was brought in here, but they haven't taken her into a room yet. It looks like she's still in the operating room."

Chloe's heart skipped a beat and she froze. "The...the operating room? H-how long has she been there?" she asked panicked, resting her elbows on the counter and holding her head in her hands.

"Well it's 7:30 now, and they brought her in at around 1 in the afternoon. So about 6 and a half hours," she calculated.

"Six hours in surgery?" Chloe exclaimed.

"It's listed here as a major car accident. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you all of this. Are you a family member or friend?"

"I'm...a friend," Chloe replied hesitantly.

"Well her notes say she was brought in with another girl without I.D. Do you think you could help us identify her?" the receptionist asked, pulling up a picture on the computer. As she did so, her gaze went rapidly between Chloe's face and the picture she had pulled up on the computer. Her eyes began to narrow and she looked at Chloe's torn sleeves that rested on the countertop. Chloe quickly stepped backwards and shoved her hands into her pockets nervously. Other staff had begun to notice the rough and tumble looking blonde haired girl at the front desk, also noticing her recent injuries.

"We've got a slight problem," one of the staff said to the receptionist as he walked up to the front desk next to Chloe. "I've got a missing patient in room..." he trailed off as he noticed Chloe standing next to him, beginning to back off. He looked her up and down, seeing her limp and the scars on her face. Chloe paused as she felt the wall behind her, halting her retreat. She let out a sheepish chuckle and took off sprinting down the hall.

"Stop her!" he cried after Chloe, drawing the attention of the entire floor.

Chloe ran as fast as she could with the limp and the headache that rushed forward into her skull at her sudden movements. She pushed a cart of medical supplies into the middle of the hallway as a roadblock, jumping into the elevator at the last second before the doors closed. Her finger hammered rapidly on the first floor button as if pressing it more would speed the elevator's descent. The other occupants of the elevator car tried their best to discretely back away against the walls, noticing her disheveled appearance and wanting nothing to do with whatever misfortune she carried with her. The soft brass of the elevator music played ironically in the background, setting a peaceful backdrop to the chaos running through Chloe's mind.

Finally, the elevator came to a halt on the ground floor, and Chloe limped out into the lobby, wincing with every step. Chloe tried to maintain a straight face through the pain and almost made it out of the lobby when the automatic doors slid open, revealing the last two people in the world she would ever want to see her alive. She froze in her tracks and swallowed hard. The two in the doorway froze as well. For what felt like an eternity, the two parties stared at each other, Chloe remaining stone-faced while the other two looked as if they were about to pass out from shock. The woman stepped forward and reached out a wavering hand at Chloe. She struggled to maintain a steady voice as she spoke.

"C-Chloe? I-is that...you?"

Chloe wasn't sure whether to be ecstatic or terrified of the consequences of what she was about to do. But from here, there was no turning back. She took a deep breath and smiled weakly.

"Hi, mom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Count of Monte Crisco..."
> 
> "It's Cristo, you dumb shit."
> 
> "By Alexandre...Dumbass. Dumbass?"


	8. Bury the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! First of all I sincerely apologize for how long this chapter has taken to publish. I got really busy with personal things, but on top of that I also came to a tough point in terms of story direction. I already had a skeleton plot done, but after fleshing it out I wasn't super happy with how I wanted to eventually resolve things, which forced me to spend a lot of time scrapping what I had. Luckily, chapter 8 is finally here after a whole month of silence from me. Thanks for your patience and enjoy the read!

 

**Chapter 8 - Bury the Future**

* * *

Max wasn't the type to get hungover, or much less even drink. But when she finally woke, she felt what she imagined to be the equivalent of the type of hangover you got only after a night of pub-crawling around the seaside area of Oregon. Every motion of her head caused throbbing pain. Blinking, looking around, swallowing, even straining her hearing made her feel like she was about to pass out. It felt as if there was an elastic band holding down her forehead to the bed with weights on her chest.

She was in a hospital, that much was certain. And was it daytime or was that the bright fluorescent lights overhead? From her angle, it was difficult to tell. The smell of disinfectants was strong in the air, mixed with a strange smell that might have been plastic from all of the equipment nearby. She looked down at her body and saw that her right arm was heavily scarred, though the scars looked old and almost healed. There was an IV attached to her left hand, which made sense given how badly her head hurt. She must've suffered some kind of serious injury.

There was a dull pain in her lower back that wouldn't seem go to away. She tried to scoot herself around in bed, thinking that she might just be sore from lying in the same position for a long time. Her body felt incredibly heavy though, and she couldn't seem to shift herself around.

Her hand limply felt around the side of the bed for the remote control that would allow her to call for a nurse. The buttons and their myriad of colors were blurry in her vision, but she managed to find the call button. It clicked and emitted a soft beep as confirmation. To her surprise, a small army of nurses came in, led by a doctor. The nurses swarmed around her, checking her vital signs and the IV drip attached to her left hand. The doctor pulled up a seat next to her and began looking through her chart after pulling up his glasses.

"Maxine, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," her voice scratched out. "Just Max, though."

"Alright then,  _Just Max_ ," the doctor said with a grin. "I'm Doctor Wesley Gott. I'm going to ask you to follow my finger. Keep your focus on the tip," he instructed as he held up a finger in front of her face. Her eyes tracked it as it moved side to side, closer and further. Now it went in a circle, and that was when the headache kicked in. She winced and blinked hard, rubbing her eyes.

"Hm," was all that came from Dr. Gott.

"My head hurts," Max groaned.

"That's perfectly normal," he reassured her. "Now Max, do you know where you are?"

"A hospital?" Max questioned. But her questioning tone came more from the fact that she was _obviously_  in a hospital, so why would the doctor ask what was obvious?

"Do you know _which_  hospital?" he returned carefully.

That caught Max off guard. "Last I checked, I was in Arcadia Bay, so... Arcadia Medical?"

Some of the nurses looked between each other, but the doctor quietly dismissed them from the room. Dr. Gott nodded to the last exiting nurse, who closed the door behind him. Something was wrong.

Dr. Gott pressed his fingertips together and leaned forward on his elbows. "Max, um... this is going to be a bit of a shock, but, uh... you're not in Arcadia Bay anymore."

"Where, then?" Max asked.

"California. UCSF Medical Center," he said finally.

"California? H-how? Why?" Max asked, confusion mounting.

"I think it would be easier if I started from the beginning. Um, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you've been in a coma for the past...six months."

 _Holy. Shit._  Max's mind raced every which way, trying to comprehend what she had just been told. How was that possible? Was the accident really bad enough to force her into a whole half year of unconsciousness? A part of her suspected that her time travel abilities had something to do with her current situation, but the entire situation felt real enough. In her dreams, there was always an intangible fuzziness about them, a sort of sheer veil between her and reality. There was no such veil here. She felt pain in her back and head but she could see, speak, and hear clear as day. This was real.

"Six... six months...?" she asked in a shaky voice.

Gott nodded his head solemnly. "I'm afraid so. Today is Saturday, April 5, and the year is 2014."

"Six...wh-what am I doing in...California?" Max stammered.

"Well you weren't always here. You were originally admitted to Arcadia Medical, but your condition wasn't improving. You see, you were paralyzed from the waist down due to the crash," Dr. Gott explained.

"Paralyzed? I can't...how?"

"According to the accident report, your car ran through an intersection at a red light. Your concussion came from hitting the car in front of you. The rest of your injuries were sustained after a car T-boned you from the right side. Since you were unconscious, your body wasn't able to brace itself for the impact. You took a direct hit from a car coming sideways at you at about 50 miles an hour. You're lucky to be alive."

"Fuck..." Max whispered under her breath as she leaned her head back into the pillow.

"Laceration to the spinal column in sections L1 through L4. A rupture in one of your disks caused a spinal fluid leak, leading to fluid decompression and a very tricky surgery. In other words-"

"I'm paralyzed," Max interrupted.

"Mm, now there's the rub," Dr. Gott said as he shook his head. "Your nerves healed remarkably well, which is quite surprising for an injury of this nature. But while your nerves themselves were intact, they were strangely non-responsive when subjected to stimuli. You were showing all the signs of paralysis, but physically, your body had already healed. It was quite perplexing, really, so Arcadia Medical had you sent down here to California for more advanced medical treatment. Not a moment too soon it seems, since that hurricane tore through Arcadia Bay shortly after your relocation."

"The storm..." Max remembered.

"I wasn't there, but I heard it just cropped up from the middle of nowhere. Good thing you were moved here, eh? Anyways, we here couldn't figure out what was wrong either, but we decided to keep you here on watch anyway because the storm destroyed most of the city and the hospitals were overflowing. Anyway, I think the paralysis is a symptom of your body still being in shock. You should be walking in no time."

Max began to throw the sheets off of herself as she tried to get up. "I need my phone. I need to call-"

There was a firm hand on her shoulder holding her back. "Hold on there, Max. We need to stabilize your condition first. You were in a coma for six months, and there's a lot of work we have to do to get you back on your feet."

Max protested further, "But my friends-"

"I understand your concern for your friends, but the storm passed 5 months ago. Your friends—whom I am sure are all fine, have already waited on your recovery for months. I'm sure they wouldn't mind waiting an extra day."

"I...I guess you're right," Max relented finally.

"We can start the tests as soon as you feel ready though, if that would make you feel better. I'll call the nurses back in," the doctor said as he walked out the door.

"Wait!" Max called.

The doctor paused and turned. "Yes, Max?"

"In the car crash, I was with another girl. Do you know where she is?"

Dr. Gott shook his head sadly. "No, I'm afraid I don't know. I'm sorry."

_Please be alive, Chloe. Please be alive._

* * *

It was time to start her diagnostic tests, something that Max couldn't wait to get out of the way. This whole experience felt like a massive setback with Nathan's trial and the storm constantly plaguing her thoughts. It ate at the very fiber of her being, not knowing what had happened in Arcadia Bay. Her strength exercises here seemed trivial compared with the grand scheme of saving her hometown from a collapsing reality.

As she lay back the table, the lack of sensation was a curious sensation, if that made any sense. With her eyes she could see the nurse take the large needle-poking device and lightly tap her big toe. With her ears she could hear the nurse ask, "Do you feel that?" But she couldn't move. Her foot didn't even twitch in a reflex response, even though she was overly ticklish. She shook her head, and the nurse began poking her other toes, harder this time. There was still no response.

Now she was sitting upright, or rather propped up while being supported on either side by examiners. Her paralysis meant she couldn't sit up straight, much less dangle her legs off of a table and keep her balance. Another nurse took a small mallet and tapped the bundle of nerves just above her knee. This was the part where her leg was supposed to swing forward, and everyone would cheer as she miraculously overcame her paralysis, but that wasn't going to happen in this episode. Her leg hung there limply, almost dead. Her  _soul_  felt dead.

A few tests later, she was moved to a different section of the hospital where she sat on a chair as nurses prepped and attached electrodes to her legs and lower back. The gel they used was supposed to be cold and slimy, but she couldn't feel it. Maybe the nurses were just messing with her to try and gross her out. Then again, they didn't seem like the joking type.

Finally, another man walked through the doors and offered Max a handshake.

"Hi Maxine, I'm James, PT coordinator for the medical center."

"Hi James. Just Max. And, uh...paralyzed."

James beamed. "Not for long is what I'm hoping. Now these electrodes will have current running through them to try and stimulate your muscles. It's okay to fall the first few times, since this is a big step up from being in a coma yesterday. Are you ready?"

"Let's do this," Max said, feigning confidence.

James fell for it and smiled broadly again. "That's the spirit!"

If only she could be as eager as James. The nurses helped her up to the bars where she was supposed to walk a short distance, about 3 yards. The electrodes were all connected to a power box on a cart that was wheeled beside her. One of the nurses held up the bundle behind her like the train on a dress, to make sure she didn't trip and fall. James knelt down by the box and began adjusting the settings.

"We're on in three, two, one..."

Max braced herself for the current and was surprised to find that she actually felt something. The electrodes on her calves and thighs were actually doing their job, artificially creating a signal path across her nerves to her spinal column. Max likened it to a more spread out static shock you would get after running across carpet with your socks on and then touching a doorknob. While slightly unpleasant, she was just grateful she could feel something.

Imbued with confidence, she swung her leg in front of her and touched down for her first step. As soon as she placed her weight on it, her knee buckled and she found herself tumbling face down on the floor.

"Damn it!" she cried aloud as the nurses caught her right before she completely face-planted. Her legs beneath her couldn't even move to get her to her feet, so she had to pull herself up by the arms draped around her supporters. When she was finally upright, she moved her hands to the support bars on either side of her. She leaned heavily on them and took deep breaths.

"Are you okay, Max?" James asked with worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said dismissively.

"Go again?" James asked.

Max nodded wordlessly.

This time when she put her foot forward, she was much more cautious in balancing her weight, though it was difficult to tell exactly how much without the feedback from her nerves. The electrical signal only stimulated her muscles; it didn't actually send signals. She controlled her balance by how far forward she leaned. When she had leaned far enough, her knees locked in place. Though not an ideal way to walk, it was good enough for now. Then came the other leg. She willed her foot to swing forward, trying to focus on the individual muscles that comprised the walking motion. Her leg was almost in front of the other but she quickly lost focus of the first leg and fell sideways on the floor against the rail.

"Fuck!" she yelled again, this time out of frustration and less out of pain. She lay against the rails, struggling to catch her breath. Six months of lying unconscious had sapped her endurance and strength, rendering her into a steaming pile of vexation. How could she jump through time yet be unable to walk? Irony abounded.

"Max... maybe we should take a break. No one expects you to get this on the first go."

"I can do this," she said to James but mostly herself.

James sighed as he looked to the nurses who helped her up once more.

"I don't want you pushing yourself too much. If you fall over again, we're calling it quits, okay?"

A few more runs and a barely passable excuse for dinner later, Max lay in bed exhausted, questions swimming through her mind preventing her from falling asleep. The rehab was one of the most physically difficult things she had ever done. Maybe it was due to her weakened state from having muscle atrophy, but learning to walk again sucked major ass. She  _wanted_  so badly to call Chloe and find out just what the hell was going on right now, but couldn't bring herself to hit the dial button. While Chloe knew about the impending storm and most likely would have found shelter, Max still had no idea if Chloe had even survived the car crash. With fear, she realized that it was completely possible that Chloe had suffered a similar fate as her alternate self, wheelchair-bound and paralyzed from the neck down. If it happened to her, it could definitely happen to Chloe. How long would she wait to call? That was the greatest question she faced right now. Her greatest fear was that it wouldn't matter.

Logic told her that she would eventually recover enough to be discharged from the hospital and would be returned home to Arcadia Bay. If she ran into Chloe then, after however many months of silence, she knew she would regret it greatly, along with being a complete ass. Setting out on this journey, Max knew she would be putting her life on the line. In a moment of carelessness, or perhaps even purposeful ignorance, she had risked her relationship with Chloe as well. She  _had_  to call.

As Max picked up her phone, dozens of notifications poured in through text and email. Most were from Chloe, though a few were from her parents. She flipped through her text messages first.

 **10/24/13 Mom: Just heard about the accident. I don't know when you'll read this, but please call back when you can!**  
**10/24/13 Dad: Max, your mother and I are flying down to Arcadia bay tomorrow to visit. Call us!  
** **10/24/13 Chloe: I know you won't see this, but please get better. It's my fault for getting us into that crash. I should've been more careful. Sorry.**

**10/25/13 Chloe: Your parents came to visit today, but you weren't awake yet. Hoping for a speedy recovery. In other news, my parents found out I was alive when they visited the hospital. I'm moving back in with them, and it's hella weird talking to them. I don't know what to say to them. How much do I tell them?**

**10/26/13 Chloe: So today was Nathan's prelim. He's going to be tried as a minor, the slimy fucker. I'll bet you anything his daddy rigged the jury and sucked off the judge. I hope he doesn't get off easy. Get better soon, k?  
** **10/26/13 Unknown Number: Hi Max, it's Tamara. I heard you might not be up for a while, and I would much rather talk in person, but I don't want you to wake up and resent me, though if you do it's completely understandable. I put you in so much danger, sending you after Nathan on your own, and I'm sorry for that. Today was Nathan's preliminary trial and he's going to be tried as a minor. I want you to know this isn't your fault, it's mine, and I'm going to run this bastard into the ground as best as I possibly can. Wishing you a speedy recovery.**

Upon reading that Nathan had successfully won the motion to be tried as a minor, Max's teeth ground together in anger. Chloe was right. Sean Prescott had influence over this case somewhere. Even though Nathan technically was a minor during the time of the Dark Room kidnappings and Rachel's murder, his body count that included Chloe should've gotten him an adult sentence. She could only hope that Tamara would be able to follow through and carry out a maximum sentence for Nathan. She continued flipping through the messages.

**11/8/13 Chloe: It started snowing today. I think it's happening soon. I told my mom to get ready to leave, but she wants to stay and help people. It was hard enough convincing my parents of the truth, so how are we supposed to get everyone else? I need you back.**

**11/9/13 Chloe: People are starting to worry, which is actually good. NWS said that there's no need to worry. Lame-ass government.**

**11/10/13 Chloe: NOW they're telling people to evacuate. Hurricane Gloria is Level 1 and moving up the West Coast. Why do these hurricanes have such lame names? Why can't we call it Hurricane Megadeth or something badass? People started evacuating, but not my family, no sir. My parents want to help others evacuate before leaving for ourselves. What part of "I've seen the future" is confusing?**

**11/11/13 Chloe: Good news, David actually had a good idea for once. He wants to get people to the Prescott bunker to wait out the storm. It's like it was designed for something like this, which scares me more than the actual hurricane. Bad news, the bunker can only fit about 30 people max if we don't want to sleep on top of each other. I'm kinda glad that you're not here to suffer through this, though it would definitely make being alone here more fun.**

That was the end of the text messages. Max tried refreshing her texts, but they ended there. Max switched to her emails, where the rest of Chloe's messages lay.

**12/2/13**

The bunker was a great idea right up to the part where the barn caved in over us and buried us under a few hundred pounds of soaking wet wood. We've been down here for 3 weeks now. No cellphone signal, and up until David fixed the internet yesterday, no internet either. Is it possible to develop claustrophobia? I think it is. I look at the ceiling here and I just feel so cramped and suffocated. Not to mention just being down here where the unspeakable happened is pretty creepy by itself. Luckily, this place is pretty stocked with food and water, so I'm not going to die anytime soon. What really ticks me off is the lack of space around here. Only 2 other families wanted to stay down here with us, but even with only a few of us it's difficult living so closely. I have no personal space, and I can't even smoke down here. The only nice thing that happened was one night when you came to me in a dream. We were hanging out on the dock again, just like I told you before. With all of the powers we have, I can't help but wonder if you were really there. If you were, then I apologize for pushing you in the water. Or not. I'd definitely do it again. Come back soon.

...

**12/8/13**

The greatest thing happened today! After David got the internet up last week, he was able to check on the weather and see that the storm had passed. He made contact with some of his cop buddies and got them to come down and help move the wood off us. I can hear them outside right now with their pickup trucks and fire axes. I've never been so excited to be found by a cop before. And not a moment too soon either. Mom got sick, and she didn't sound too great. A lot of coughing, and last night there was blood too. David thinks it's pneumonia from the cold and lack of circulating air. If we get out today, the first thing we're doing is taking her to the hospital. Then I'm going to smoke some weed. Like a lot of it. And drink. And be Chloe again.

...

**12/9/13**

I lost my phone in the chaos somehow, which is funny because I usually have all my shit in order and lined up like the organized person I am. I'm writing this from David's phone. Bless him for being a decent human being. Anyway, the hospital is already overflowing with other patients, so we're going to have to drive out of the city for a hospital. Problem is that most of the Oregon coast got fucked over by the storm, and a lot of the roads are blocked from debris and traffic. Mom says she's doing better because of the fresh air, but I don't believe her. She's just trying to be strong for me and David. I worry a lot about her.

...

**12/10/13**

David's thinking was that the places where the storm did the least damage were the most likely to have available hospitals. Made sense. I looked up the damage trail left by Megadeth and it looks like the storm started in Newport then moved north, fizzling out in Astoria. That's 130 frickin miles of destruction. I wish I was that badass. Anywhere south of Arcadia Bay took the worst beating. That meant heading north. The nearest decent hospital equipped to deal with a bad case of pneumonia was in Providence, 40 miles north of here. The next problem was finding a working car. My car got wrecked of course, and so did everyone else's. Arcadia Bay looked like one of those apocalypse movies where all the cars are flipped over and shit. All that was missing were the zombies wandering around looking for brains to eat. Instead, we had injured people looking for rides to the hospital, or just away from here. Thank the gods for David's cop friends again, who gave us a lift all the way to Providence. Mom got a visit from the doctors and they said it was a bacterial infection. I'm hoping antibiotics are all she needs. I've got no place to go, so I'm sleeping in the hospital again, just like old times.

...

**12/24/13**

It's been 2 weeks now and Mom hasn't gotten better. The infection spread or something, and the doctors recommend immediate surgery. I'm so scared right now. Please wake up.

...

**12/25/13**

I don't know how to put this. Joyce is gone. My hands are shaking right now as I'm typing and I'm a fucking mess. The doctors said she went in her sleep, but it's not true. I killed her. I should've gotten them to leave earlier, I should've done something else. I miss her so much. I've lost both my parents. It's Christmas Day and everything hurts like hell.

...

**1/1/14**

Happy New Year, Max.

...

**1/4/14**

I don't know if I should be happy, disturbed, or sympathetic. David told me the police found Nathan dead in his cell. He hung himself last night out of guilt apparently. Left a letter to his family and Rachel. Maybe I should feel sympathetic. I almost feel the same way. Dead on the inside.

...

**1/5/14**

Mom's funeral was today. The cemetery was just about the only place the twister didn't completely raze. She's next to Dad...and me. I saw my own gravestone, which has got to rank about an 11-point-oh on my weird-shit-o-meter. "Beloved daughter and friend." Yeah, right, I was an ass. I still am. A small handful of people showed up, mostly mom's relatives. The worst part is that I had to stand back away from everything. You see, to the rest of the family, I'm still dead. Come to think of it, maybe it was a blessing that I didn't have to be up close to everything. After getting home I had a few bottles and before I knew it I was getting blackout drunk. I think it's bad that I'm proud of that, but for the briefest of moments in the past few months of shit piled upon shit, I felt at peace. I woke up in the junkyard which looks more like a minefield now. Somehow I managed to walk there all the way from my house. I don't remember any of it. I probably could've gotten hit by a car. Good thing I didn't.

...

**1/8/14**

I don't know how many more of these I can write. It's supposed to be helpful writing out my thoughts and feelings, but it would be so much better if I could just talk to you. I've got no one now. I left my new phone number at the bottom. Call me and I promise I'll pick up. This is Chloe Price, last survivor of the Price household, signing off.

...

That email was sent 3 months ago with no word from anyone else in between. Max looked at the number and punched it into her phone frantically, hoping to contact Chloe. The phone rang a few times, but went to voicemail after a few dial tones. Max groaned and redialed. Her heart was speeding out of control, thumping wildly out of her chest. She knew Chloe had self-destructive tendencies and had no qualms about indulging them. She could only hope that Chloe wasn't off somewhere getting blackout drunk again, or something worse.

Max didn't realize it, but she lay there drowsily in bed hours later, phone limply supported in hand, automatically pressing the call button every minute, waiting for Chloe to pick up. In total, she had tried to call over 300 times. Finally, she succumbed to her exhaustion as sleep took her.

* * *

She was in a room that looked as if it had been steeped in tar. There were no traces or outlines of any furniture, walls, or people, yet she felt stuffy and cramped by an unknown pressure. Strangely enough, she was quickly aware of the fact that she was in a dream. She could clearly remember her last moments awake in the hospital, and this room felt like her own mind. This didn't however feel like a lucid dream that she could control. She was only along for the ride this time.

There was a voice that came from the dark empty. "The doctors say your paralysis is psychosomatic, know that?"

The voice was deep and male but was layered with a strange warbling like it had been washed through with a voice changer. There was no discernible point of origin for the sound and it seemed to surround her and echo off invisible walls all the same. It wasn't taunting or sinister, but simply stated fact.

"I was in a coma," Max replied.

"Mm," the voice seemed to affirm. "But your nerves were healed, weren't they?"

"What do you care?" Max asked at no direction in particular. "Who are you?"

"I'm in your head, a part of you, if that makes sense. I can't tell you who I am just yet, but know that I'm a friend."

"A friend," Max repeated dubiously. "Living inside my head."

"I get it. This is all in your mind, none of it is real. But you don't really believe that, do you? You know that this is real, and you understand the power of the mind. You've been warping reality with it all this time."

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Jefferson escaped justice through death. Joyce died of pneumonia. Nathan hung himself. And those are just the people you know. Countless others have died in the storm, cities have been destroyed, everyone's way of life has been ruined. You can fix this."

"But if I jump back in the past, everyone is going to die anyway," Max reasoned.

Max could almost feel the voice wagging a disembodied finger. "Not if the storm never happens."

She glared into the darkness. "Are you asking me to sacrifice Chloe again? Because if you are, you can go to hell, whoever you are."

"Absolutely not. That would be counter productive to everything I— well, everything  _we've_  done. Everything happens for a purpose, Max. You have these powers for a purpose. Never doubt that," the voice said firmly.

"And what purpose is that?"

"To save everyone," was the calm reply.

Max shook her head, "That's impossible. My alternate self already tried everything."

"Your alternate self failed because she had to fail. You're going to stop the storm because you have to."

"Rhetorical bullshit," she spat.

There was an exasperated sigh, which was uncharacteristic of a mystical entity living inside her head, or at least her idea of one anyway. "Tune in to what I'm saying here. Everything, and I mean  _everything_ , happens for a purpose. It was no mistake that Chloe returned to this reality after your alternate self died. It's no mistake, you waking up here 6 months after the storm."

"What the hell are you talking about? What does any of this mean?" Max pleaded to the air.

"I'm sorry Max, but I can't tell you everything right now. This is something you need to find on your own."

"Why is that so important? If you're my friend, just tell me now!"

"This will never work if I tell you. If you're going to stop the storm, you're going to have to discover the truth behind the darkness. You have to trust me on this."

"How can I trust you? I don't even know who you are!"

"Because I'm the one who gave you these powers."

"You... you're the one?"

"Bring Jefferson to justice. Get Nathan help. Stop the storm. And most of all, save Chloe. You'll hear from me soon."

"Who are you?"

"It's time to wake up, Max."

Max woke with a start, gasping for breath and a bead of sweat running down her face. She raised a hand to wipe it away, but was shocked to find that her right arm was now in a cast, resting in a sling. The cast extended all the way from the middle of her forearm to the second joint of her fingers. It was bulky and cumbersome to deal with, something she definitely would have noticed before. Her left hand was still connected to the IV, but when she looked to her left side, the room had changed. She was still in a hospital, but those blue walls were now a stark white, with a distinct addition of several posters around the room. The cot was different too: the plastic white guard rails that used to sit on either side of her were replaced with simple metal bars. With her free hand, she pulled the covers off of her and scooted her body further up the bed.

It was then that she realized she could move her legs again. With eyes wide open, she stretched each ankle, pointing her foot in every direction possible. She pulled back and extended her legs, and though there was a slight pain in her back as she did so, she was elated to be able to move again. She wiggled her toes and nearly burst out in excitement as she relished the sensation that returned to her limbs.

She rolled over towards her bedside table and grabbed her phone. The date and time were displayed on the front, and Max leaned back with a sigh of relief.

 _Friday_  
_November 1, 2013  
_ _8:15 AM_

While a week unconscious in the hospital was still not ideal in any scenario, it was preferable by far to being in a coma for 6 months. That was one of the strangest dreams she had experienced, which was saying a lot. But was it really a dream? Everything felt so real; the vivid conversations she had with the medical staff, the pain she felt falling over and over again during rehab, the daggers of guilt piercing through her as she read Chloe's texts, everything felt so real. And yet here she was, a mere week after the car accident.

Max unlocked her phone and began flipping through the notifications she received. To her shock, the messages she had remembered were all there, word for word. They started with texts from her parents telling her they would visit. These were followed by texts from Chloe and concluded with update on the preliminary trial from Tamara. Everything was the same, word for word.

"It wasn't a dream..." she murmured.

This was real. Her 6 months in a coma were real. Somehow that voice in her head had something to do with it. He was responsible, whoever he was. All of the messages she had received up until this day were exactly the same as the ones she had seen before. Thankfully, the messages about the storm were not present, as it hadn't happened yet. However, those dates were still burned into her mind. On the 8th it starts to snow. Days later, the storm actually hits. Her mental clock started a countdown.

The door opened and a nurse walked in, no doubt to check up on her. She walked over to Max's monitor and began reading her vitals.

"Good morning, Max. How are you feeling?"

Max scooted in her bed and leaned further into the pillow. "A bad headache, but that's it."

"That's understandable. You've been out for about a week now. You've been in a major car accident."

"I know," Max replied unfazed.

"How much do you remember?"

"We crashed and I got a concussion and a spinal column injury."

"That's right. How did you know about the spinal column injury?" the nurse asked with curiosity.

"Um...my back hurts. It makes sense," Max lied quickly. "Was there any major nerve damage?" she probed.

"Not according to your charts. You got lucky," the nurse answered.

"Huh..." Max said under her breath.

The nurse gave her a funny look, expecting her to respond more positively to the news that she didn't suffer major nerve damage as she suspected. A normal person would've been much more excited upon receiving the news Max just did. What a peculiar girl.

"Where am I?" Max asked.

"Arcadia Medical," she replied.

"Thank goodness," Max breathed. The nurse gave her another funny look.

"I'm going to get the doctor and he can give you some tests. Your condition is pretty stable, so you might even get discharged today," the nurse informed her before she walked out the door.

A few minutes later, the doctor came in. It was a woman, slightly taller than Max, with short auburn hair. This was definitely not Doctor Wesley Gott from California. She smiled at Max warmly as she went to her bedside.

"Hi, Max. I'm Doctor Perry. Good to see you awake! You had us worried there for a bit, you know. You're actually in good stable condition, so I'm going to run a few tests on you and then we can give you your discharge papers to fill out. Oh, on second thought..." she flipped the page on her chart and trailed off.

"What is it?" Max asked.

"Huh. You're going to have a talk with ABPD before being discharged today."

Max's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, why?"

Doctor Perry shrugged as she began taking notes on Max's vital statistics. "I have no clue. Though it may have something to do with that car accident of yours. If I were you, I wouldn't sweat it. If those boys start giving you a hard time, give me a shout and I'll shoo them off," she said with a smirk.

Max smiled gratefully. "Thanks. But I hope it's nothing serious."

"It shouldn't be. Now I'm going to take your blood pressure. Hold out your arm..."

They completed the tests rather quickly, and Max was found to be in rather good shape. She could still walk and do everything else normally, but she had to wear a back brace for her surgery and a cast with a sling on her right arm for her fracture. Other than those minor inconveniences, Max was glad to be walking again. Now she just had to deal with the police. Worst-case scenario was that she had seriously injured the other drivers in the accident and would have to deal with legal issues. If she did, Tamara was going to be on speed dial.

Max was pacing in her room, having been tired of lying down motionless. She definitely felt a week's worth of soreness creep into her muscles. Still, anything was better than 6 months. There was a knock on the door as one of the cops walked in. He was tall and well built which gave off the impression of a no-nonsense type of cop, but his face seemed friendly enough. He wasn't carrying a huge stack of files that would indicate an impending legal issue, and Max was glad for that.

He waved. "How are you doing, Max? I'm Officer Alvarez, ABPD. I'm here to help clear up some things with you, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Max said, appreciating his politeness.

"Well, I know you're probably eager to get home, so I'll be brief. We have reason to believe that your car accident wasn't much of an accident, more of a targeted attempt on your life. We don't have any suspects at the moment, which is why we'll be increasing security at your school. We'll also have someone help you through security protocols you should follow so that you can stay safe."

"What about the bullets you pulled from Warren's car?"

"Ballistics couldn't get a match on the weapon. However, it's now in our database, so if they use the same weapon anywhere else, we'll know who they are."

"I guess all I do is wait, then," Max said with a sigh.

"I'll escort you back to Blackwell and get you in contact with the head of security, David Madsen. Do you know him?"

Max almost snorted. "Yeah."

Alvarez let out a deep chuckle at Max's reaction. "Sounds like you've run into him before. He'll talk to you about security protocols, simple stuff really. How to answer your door, noticing shifty individuals, stuff like that."

Max wrapped her arms around herself. "I feel kinda helpless just waiting for this guy to show up."

"With any luck, we'll bag him before he gets close to showing up. It's just a matter of time before the ABPD eats him alive. We've got an APB out on the vehicle, so there isn't anywhere he can go that we won't find him."

As they headed back to Alvarez's police cruiser, Max thought upon her current situation. Alvarez sounded awfully confident of the police's ability to catch two trained killers. Or maybe he was just saying this to put Max at ease, expecting her to take him at his word. Either way, he was being naive. All of this would be moot however, if she couldn't solve this herself before the next week. If the shooters in the future timeline haven't been caught yet, it meant that Max was the one to catch them. That is, if the little voice in her head really was showing her the future without her involvement.

That detail still bothered her. The voice didn't seem evil, though villains rarely do at first glance.

* * *

Max entered her room for the first time in what felt like years. The air was stuffy as particles of dust swirled around, tracing the outlines of the rays of light let in through the partially opened curtains. Her room looked largely untouched, with her basket of clean laundry still sitting by her bedside, waiting to be folded and put away. Her laptop was still open, her guitar remained propped up on the sofa, and her camera was still on her dresser.

There was a knock on the doorframe, and Max spun around to find David standing in her doorway.

"Got a moment, Max?" he asked.

"David? Um, yeah, I guess so."

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I've been better. But I'm alive, if that's what you're wondering."

"Good to hear. Listen, the guys at the station talked to the school and I'm supposed to give you a speech about security and everything because of what happened to you with the accident and the shooters. Here, take this," he said as he held out a small obnoxiously pink cylinder that looked like an asthma inhaler. Max took it and turned it over in her hand, almost laughing at the text embossed into the side.  _Bad guy-begone!_  The name sounded like something she would've heard on a late night infomercial, in between advertisements for copper compression socks and resealable lids for soda cans.

"Is this pepper spray? And did it have to be pink?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yup," David said, sounding pleased with himself. "Just slide that safety to the side and hold down liberally. Oh, and make sure it's facing forward."

"Thanks?" Max offered, unsure.

"Standard issue for an underage victim who can't purchase a handgun yet. But something tells me you've got a lot more than pepper spray to handle yourself."

"If I told you about what I could do, you wouldn't have believed me."

"You're right," David admitted to Max's surprise. "Seeing Chloe again...I've had a lot of time to think. I understand now why she hid things from me. I want to know more about what's going on, but I can tell that some things are just beyond what I'm willing to accept. All that I'm asking is that you be very careful. If you ever need to sort someone out the old fashioned way...well let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

Just then, David's radio crackled to life. The message was incredibly garbled and overrun with static interference. Max could barely make it out, hearing a few words like "fight" and "parking lot," but the actual message was a complete mystery. David grumbled as he pressed the talk button.

"Repeat, dispatch?" he spoke into the mic over the loud static.

The static grew louder, completely drowning out whatever the other line was trying to say. David turned the knob on the radio, trying to adjust the frequency, but the interference prevailed. Max looked curiously at the radio as David began to hit it with his palm.

"Damn piece of cheap tech..." he muttered.

"Could I see it?" Max asked.

"Know much about radios?" David returned as he handed it over to Max.

Max didn't even try to reestablish the connection frequency with the other line. She began pointing it around her room, listening for the static to grow louder. Max paused her sweep when she found a direction where the radio was picking up the most interference. She approached slowly, continuing to sweep the room with the radio. It was the corner of the room between her dresser and desk. The crackling on the radio lessened as she swept her desk, so she turned her attention to the dresser. She had an alarm clock with a built in FM radio on the dresser, which could've explained the interference, except the static remained even after she unplugged her clock.

Max looked at the radio curiously, before returning to sweep the dresser. She rifled through her drawers, sifting through her clothes as she looked for something that would explain all this interference. Three drawers later, it remained. Now she was starting to get frustrated.  _Something_  in here was causing interference, and Max didn't want to chalk it up to "cheap tech." As she lowered the radio almost to the floor, the interference grew stronger. Closer to the wall made it even more intense.

 _The electrical outlet?_  Max held the radio up to the unused outlet and the interference started shooting off the charts. She turned to David, who was beginning to understand what she was looking for.

"Do you have a screwdriver?"

David pulled out his multitool with a flathead screwdriver and knelt down at the outlet. The protective plastic panel came off easily after a bit of prying, and David shone his flashlight into the crevice. Grabbing a pair of work gloves from his belt to avoid electrocution, he reached into the narrow gap between the wall and the electrical box, moments later pulling out a small circuit board with wires that tapped directly into the power lines. Careful not to short the two lines together, David flipped open the pliers from his multitool and cut the wires connecting the board to the power lines.

"It's a bug," he stated after some quick observation. "You can see the microphone right there. How did you know to look for it?"

"I was already suspicious that the shooters knew exactly when I would be going to the county jail. The interference was the nail in the coffin."

"I'll bring this down to the station, have the boys analyze the manufacturer and run the serial number. Hopefully we'll be able to track down who bought this."

"Wait, no!" Max stopped him, who looked at her curiously.

"Max, this is our big break that could crack this case wide open."

"Remember Jefferson? Shot in the head while in police custody. I'll bet anything that somewhere in the station, there's a dirty cop. If we submit this as evidence, we risk losing our only lead."

"I hate to think that there's a shield behind this, but I guess I see your point."

"I can give this to Tamara Nelson. She'll know what to do with it."

"Be careful, Max. You just got back on your feet. Don't jump in the deep end too soon."

Max nodded as David quietly left her room. She hurriedly pulled out her phone and called Chloe, hoping to relay all of the past few days' discoveries. A small part of her wanted to talk about Chloe to David, but hearing David's small piece on her was enough for now. Max was just glad that David had gone softer on her after seeing how he pushed Chloe away. David may be paranoid and a control freak, but there was a loving heart in there somewhere. After all, Joyce did marry him.

The phone went to voicemail, but Max was comforted to know that the line was still active. Maybe she was with Joyce. The thought sent shivers down her spine and made her anxious. While a reunion like that would've been heartwarming and warm-fuzzies-inducing, she had seen the future. If she failed now, she would be separating this family for what felt like the hundredth time. Determined to not let that happen, she left Chloe a brief message instructing her to call back, and headed for the bus stop to visit Tamara Nelson.

* * *

A quick bus ride later and Max was standing outside the door to Tamara's office, bug secured in a small envelope in her bag. Her mind constantly nagged at her, whispering  _seven days_. That was how much time she had to un-fuck the universe. How did she explain that kind of pressure to Tamara? How could she explain it to anyone? Finding these people could take forever, and Max had to hope that Tamara was just as motivated as she was. She knocked on the door and entered.

"Max! Come in, come in," Tamara said with a surprised smile. "How are you doing?"

"I get headaches now and then, and my cast gets in the way of a lot, but I'm fine otherwise."

"It's great to see you back on your feet," she chirped.

"I got something that might help us out," Max said as she pulled out the envelope and slid out the bug. Tamara retrieved a pair of tweezers and carefully picked up the bug, making sure to not smudge any potential fingerprints.

"I found a bug in my room," Max explained. "I was thinking about sending it to the police, but I have a feeling that there's a dirty cop in there somewhere. I'd hate to lose our only lead."

"Huh..." Tamara acknowledged briefly. She had barely glanced at the bug before putting it back in the envelope. Something else was on her mind, clearly. Her hands were folded on top of her desk and she leaned in slightly.

"Max...I'm sorry for putting you in danger. I shouldn't have convinced you to talk to Nathan on your own," she said in a low voice.

"I know what I got myself into," Max said resolutely.

Tamara seemed to disagree and shook her head. "Look, the car accident was a close call. It put you in the hospital for a week, and that was probably your best-case scenario. I can't have you risking yourself for this case anymore. It's bigger than both of us realized, and that makes it dangerous. I'm taking you off the case."

Max's eyes widened as her heart plummeted into her shoes. "You're...you can't! I want to help!"

"This isn't up for discussion. I'm going after the Prescott family on my own."

"You told me you were ready for whatever happened. I'm the one who took the first hit and I'm still here," Max said defiantly.

"They could've walked in and killed you any time in the last week. They could've had someone waiting in your room when you got home. If they wanted it, you'd have been dead yesterday. Putting you in the hospital was a warning. Do you want me to place you in protective custody? To have someone watching your every move, constantly following you around? Because if you don't back off this case now, I  _will_  call them because whoever's out there  _will_  kill you."

Max's eyes burned with a fiery determination. Tamara's cold blue ones met hers, unwavering. Just then, a man walked into the office carrying two mugs of coffee with an envelope tucked under his arm. "Hey Tammy, I got those-"

He stopped short as he quickly spotted Max. His casual demeanor stiffened up slightly, but he still bore a relaxed smile. His eyebrows went up when he realized his blunder. Tamara, on the other hand, seemed incredibly embarrassed and was doing a terrible job of not showing it. This fact almost seemed to amuse the accidental intruder.

"Ahem," Tamara cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but I'm in a meeting right now,  _Mr._ _Rogers_ ," she said with punctuated annoyance.

The other man was clearly not used to hearing his name like that, and returned with a mocking, "Of course. My apologies,  _Miss Nelson_."

He deposited the files on her desk along with the coffee and backpedaled his way to the door. Max managed to catch a glimpse of him before he left completely, almost thinking she saw a mischievous wink meant for Tamara. She turned around to see Tamara, who had a hand covering part of her face. Whether her hand was there to cover her embarrassment or annoyance was not certain to Max.

Tamara quickly took the coffee and skimmed the cover file before dropping it into her desk drawer. She sipped on her coffee far too quickly for the temperature it was delivered at and nearly spit it back out.

"So... _Tammy_?" Max began slowly. Tamara sighed at the name and shook her head, sipping her coffee more slowly this time.

"Who was that?" Max continued.

"The author of half my life's woes. Coincidentally, he's also the recipient of half the checks I write."

"Checks?"

"Alexander Rogers, private investigator. He's who I call when the police are too slow or inept, so you can imagine how frequently my office uses his agency. Smalltime, local, very effective. These are files for the Erickson case I'm working on."

"What about the woes?" Max prodded.

"Take it from me, Max. Never mix business with pleasure," she said with a certain tone of loathing.

"Oh," was all she could come up with.

Tamara continued, "Look, I'm not doing this out of spite, okay? You're a great kid with a great heart and I want you to stay that way. But until I get this sorted out, it's best if you lay low for a while."

"I... fine." Max got up and stormed out the room, leaving an exasperated Tamara rubbing her temples at her desk.

* * *

The bus stopped in front of the school and ground to a halt. Max was still furious with Tamara and the sudden gust of cool air hitting her face did nothing to assuage her anger. Tamara had no right to kick her off a case she had so much stake in. Tamara had jumped into this head first without having experienced the loss Max knew all too well. As a result, her first encounter with actual danger in the case was enough to push an angered Max away.

If Tamara wasn't going to let her help with the case, it was time for some old-fashioned Nancy Drew-ing that Max was used to from her time spent uncovering Nathan and Jefferson's original plot. The first step would be tracking down whoever placed the bug in her dorm room.

As she made her way across campus towards the dorms, she spotted Warren sitting on one of the benches in front of the dorm building. He was on his computer, either reading comics or watching a movie. But when he saw Max, he quickly closed his computer and headed towards her.

"Max! I didn't know you were back!" he said with excitement.

"Yeah, I just woke up today," Max said with a smile.

"Dude, that's awesome. Listen, um, can we talk about something?"

"Yeah, shoot."

Warren folded his arms before he continued. "Max, you gotta tell me what's going on."

"If this is about the car, I'm really _, really_  sorry and I can pay for the damages."

Warren cut her off angrily, much to her surprise. "That's not what I'm talking about! You lied to me! I went to the junkyard to pick up stuff from my car before they scrapped it. I saw that both the driver's and passenger's seat belts were cut. There were two people in that car."

"Warren, I can explain-" Max attempted.

He shook his head. "You don't have to. I saw Chloe Price at the bus stop. She pretended not to see me but I knew it was her, back from the dead or whatever. I mean, come on, Max. You tell me this crazy fucked up story about time travel and capturing Jefferson and this world ending storm, stuff that they would put you in a psych ward for, but I listened and I believed you. And I kept your secrets. Why couldn't you trust me with this one?"

Max threw up her arms in frustration. "I don't know how these powers work! If people find out she's alive, I'm scared it'll make her disappear forever."

"You're afraid of losing people. You're afraid of hurting again," Warren deduced.

"Once you've seen as much death as I have—"

She was cut off once more. "You think that you're the only one who's  _been_  hurt? Who is  _still_  hurting? Jesus Christ, Max, you almost died! You think you're like an infinite sponge or something, soaking up all the hurt and burying it so that nothing can touch you. I'm telling you it doesn't work like that, because a sponge is still wet on the outside. Your friends feel what you feel. I feel what you feel."

"And what do you feel?"

Warren's voice was suddenly dark yet quiet. "I feel fear. I've seen you these past weeks. You're not doing as well as you think. I see how these powers change you into something you don't want to see. Max, you're not alone in this."

Max put a hand on her head and sighed. "Warren, I'm sorry, I really am. I just... maybe I need more help than I realized."

"It's whatever. Just...let me help, okay?" he pleaded. Max nodded halfheartedly in response.

Warren smiled back wryly and changed the subject. "Where were you just now? You just got out of the hospital so I'd imagine it was really important."

Max had her hands in her pockets. "I went to see Tamara about the shooting. I had a lead, but she kicked me off the case."

"I guess she didn't want to see you hurt again," Warren remarked dryly.

The corner of Max's mouth curled upward in a halfhearted agreement.

"What was your lead?"

"A bug in my room," Max said as she retrieved it from her bag and handed it to Warren. "It's probably how they knew when I was going to the prison and why."

Warren studied it, squinting as he held it close to his face. He let out a few thoughtful  _hm's_  and  _uh-huh's_  as he examined the electronic components on the circuit. His eyes narrowed as if he were looking for something, then studied the two severed lines that were tapped into the power outlet until David cut them.

"What are these two lines for?" he asked.

"No idea," Max replied. "But they were connected directly to the inside of an electrical socket, if that helps. Do you think you could, uh, I don't know, maybe hack into the bug and track down where the audio was being sent?"

"What is this, _The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo_?" Warren asked with a sudden laugh. "It doesn't work like that. I can't tell you who it was being sent to, but I can tell you where it was sent."

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"Blackwell," he replied.

"I don't understand."

"Take a look at this circuit board," he said as he held it up for Max. He pointed to several components on the board, "This here is the microphone. That looks like the on-board audio amplifier. Here's the catch: there's no transceiver on this thing. The amplifier connects directly to the power line through what I assume is the microprocessor. The only output is through those two wires."

Max had a confused look on her face. "Could you repeat that? But like, in English?"

"A little tiny unit like this isn't going to be able to transmit high quality audio over any reasonably large distance. The movies let you think that these things have a 10-mile range, but trust me, they don't. Have you ever seen old power strips with ethernet jacks in the sides?"

"Yeah, but what do those have to do with anything?"

"Back in the day where network servers were super expensive and wireless wasn't a thing, buildings with a lot of computers needed a way to transfer data between each other. They needed an electrical system that was already in place in the building, the easiest being the power line. Those ethernet jacks on power strips are actually connected to the power line and use the building's power as a carrier wave to transmit data. In other words—"

"The bug is transmitting to somewhere in Blackwell," Max concluded. "Warren, you're a genius!"

Warren grimaced in response. "Don't get too excited yet. If I'm right, it means that somewhere in Blackwell, there's a mole who's selling you out."

"Then it's time to start digging."


	9. When the Devil Flinched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so so so sorry for having not updated in over a month. I went back to school in the middle of September and it's been really hard for me to find time to write in my insane schedule now that I'm dealing with work and upper division classes. Engineering life has me beat. But after over a month, I present to you Chapter 9 of Blue Skies! It's a bigass chapter by the way, at over 15k words, so it's like the length of 2 of my normal chapters. Hopefully the sheer size will make up for my month long absence if the story doesn't already do it for you. Anyways, if you want to know when I'll post chapters or if you want to hear about my writing progress, check my profile under the personal updates section. I'll throw some stuff on there from time to time to let you know that I'm still alive and kicking. Eh, that's enough of me rambling. Chapter 9, lights, polaroid camera, action!

 

**Chapter 9 - When the Devil Flinched**

* * *

_Saturday_   
_November 2, 2013_

Being in school was a total fucking drag. Max sat at her desk, nose nearly flat against the open textbook she was supposed to be studying. AP English was by far her least favorite subject, and here she sat, at the base of a mountainous pile of the vile substance waiting to be consumed. She was unconscious for a week and as a result the small pile of assignments on her desk grew to unfathomable proportions. As if she weren't already behind from her week of coping with Chloe's death, this almost guaranteed her confinement to her room for at least the next few days.

She almost laughed as she considered the absurdity of her priorities. The whole Oregon coast was about to go to utter shit in a few days, and here she was, analyzing the tones and rhetoric of Miller's  _Death of a Salesman_. Ever since she first discovered her powers, school felt so small and trivial, even more so than it did to the average high schooler in Arcadia Bay. She had powers that could change the world, for better or for worse. Though it wasn't her ideal choice, she could have singlehandedly destroyed the town. The entire fucking town. Funny that Chloe should wish for it to be "bombed to fucking glass," in her own words. If anything, her levelheadedness and persistence that ran alongside her powers proved she was capable of much more than just causing a world-ending storm. She was able to stop one. Now  _that_  was power.

Unfortunately for her, said powers would have to be put on hold to explore Willy Loman's fuck-ups and Miller's depressing take on the American Dream. But seriously, who needed school when the world needed saving?

_This loser_ , her more responsible self answered as an imaginary finger pointed over her head. If she was to be honest with herself, she knew these powers wouldn't last forever, either involuntarily through revocation by the mysterious voice in her head, or voluntarily through her understanding that sometimes the problems caused by her powers would ultimately outweigh its benefits. Until then, she still needed these powers to save the world, so she could afford to hate school for another week.

_I bet Chloe misses me,_  her more irresponsible self whispered. Max would have to agree. Being unconscious for a week mustn't have been easy on Chloe, especially when she had to deal with her reappearance to her parents. According to the texts, she was back at home, living with Joyce and David. Max couldn't imagine how weird it must be for both parties. It was weird enough for Max to accept Chloe's return, even when she was aware of the supernatural powers she possessed. But to reappear to your parents who have no clue about these strange powers? Total mindjob.

That voice was back again.  _Your girlfriend came back to life and you're wasting your time doing homework? What the fuck, Max?_  She groaned face-first into her textbook, which curled up around the sides of her face like a Facehugger from Alien. Both entities were no-good parasites that thrived off of the host's suffering, both shoved something nasty and unwanted down the recipient's throat with the hope of the recipient regurgitating it (i.e. a Xenomorph or homework), and in both cases the victim was usually left cold, dead, and lifeless. Really, she couldn't tell the difference.

Determined to not let the textbook-facehugger get the better of her, Max closed the books shut and stuffed them into her bag. It was almost dinner and she was starving. First was a visit to the Two Whales diner, and then a stop at Chloe's house where she would finish her homework in better company. Butterflies began to gather in her stomach as she thought about the conversations she would have to have. David had taken Chloe's appearance rather well and Max hoped that Joyce would do the same. Either way, it was going to be a weird conversation.  _Hey Joyce, how's your resurrected daughter? She's actually from an alternate future reality where I died instead._  Totally not weird at all.

She grabbed her overnight duffel and opened the door to leave when suddenly Warren appeared in the doorway, out of breath. He was gasping for air, one hand on his side and the other on the doorframe. He smiled weakly as he saw Max's surprised face, but groaned in pain.

"Warren... what? What are you... huh?" Max said, not caring that she sounded incoherent.

"Hi, Max," he managed in between gasps. "Outran. David. Tired." he sputtered.

"Why were you outrunning David?"

"I was poking around the classrooms looking for the receiver, but I couldn't find anything. The only places I haven't checked are David's office and Principal Wells's office. I've ruled out David so I was looking for a way to get in the principal's office when David caught me. Or almost."

Max crossed her arms. "You keep it up and he might just send you to the principal's office anyway."

Warren let out a short laugh. "That would almost make things easier. It's Saturday and Wells is gonna be back by tomorrow afternoon. So if we were gonna do anything..."

Max couldn't help but grin a bit. "And by 'anything' you really mean...?"

"Breaking and entering. Trespassing. Or saving the world. Whatever you want to call it. You in?" Warren asked as he held up a fist.

Max knocked her fist against his. "I was in before you asked."

* * *

The bus ride had become very familiar to Max, as it was her alternate form of transportation in the case that Chloe was unable to drive her. As she waited in her usual spot, she couldn't help but look around at the various passengers and wonder about their respective walks of life. Some were fishermen, some wore suits and had office jobs. Others were teachers who took home crates of papers that needed grading. If she wasn't able to stop the impending storm, this would all cease. The bus would be used to transport people en masse to various shelters or evacuation points. That was, if any of the buses even survived the storm.

In a way, she had already saved these people. By sacrificing Chloe, she had averted a major crisis and saved the lives of hundreds, if not thousands. But Chloe had returned, and with her the threat of the storm had once again risen. The one thing that continued to give her hope was the voice inside her head, telling her that it was possible to both prevent the storm and Chloe's death. At what cost to her was the real question.

The bus came to a halt at her usual stop. Max jumped off and began the walk towards Chloe's house. Thoughts of Principal Wells's involvement and the mystery of the week's events swam through her mind. She was so lost in thought that by the time she rearranged the people and events in her head, she had already arrived at Chloe's house. The sight surprised her, to say the least.

Outside in the driveway sat David's pet project, an old vintage car that hailed from what looked like the stone age. The hood was popped open to reveal the dusty engine block and interior, and some of the doors were also open. A pair of legs stuck out from under the car while the sounds of a ratcheting wrench could be heard. Off to the side stood Chloe, wearing her usual jeans but a different dark T-shirt smudged with grease and dirt. She was leaning against a standing tool chest that had its drawers protruding, wrenches and tools spilling out of it. As Max approached Chloe noticed her and struggled to contain her wide grin. David slid out from underneath the car and held out his hand.

"22 millimeter socket?" he asked. Chloe dug through one of the open drawers and retrieved the polished steel socket head for David. In a shocking moment of civility, she handed it to him without sticking out her tongue or making a smart-ass retort. Max gaped at the scene, to which Chloe finally gave in and rolled her eyes, though not at David but at Max.

"What're you staring at, Max?" Chloe asked slyly.

Max shrugged innocently. "I'm not really sure."

Upon hearing Max's voice, David slid out from under the car. "Oh, hi Max." And he quickly went back under.

Max had an eyebrow raised at Chloe and she mouthed the question "What are you doing?" to which Chloe rolled her eyes again and shook her head. "Later," was her mouthed reply.

She broke gaze with Max and looked towards the car. "I'm going inside with Max," she announced.

Max held her breath, waiting for David to dissuade her, but instead replied with a simple "Okay." Her eyes widened more, if that was even possible, and Chloe punched her arm as she jogged to the front door to return inside.

"What the hell was that?" Max asked after the two were in Chloe's room away from prying ears. Chloe faced away and peeled her shirt off above her head and threw it at the foot of her bed. Max immediately blushed but couldn't tear her eyes away.

"I feel gross," Chloe said absentmindedly. "Sorry, you were saying?" she asked as she turned around. She instantly noticed Max's eyes glued to herself and smirked, causing Max to turn even redder.

Max stammered and looked away. "Ah. Uh…I was asking what you were doing outside with David."

Chloe couldn't help the ear to ear grin that was spreading across her face as her jeans pooled at her feet. She stepped out and went to her dresser to grab a change of clothes. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Max was still facing the wall. Bundle of clothes in hand, she walked straight to Max and tapped her on the shoulder. Max turned around and was face to face with Chloe standing there in front of her leaving little to the imagination. Max gulped.

"Holy shit, you're so cute when you blush like that," Chloe said as she repressed a laugh.

"Chloe!" Max pleaded.

"I was helping David with the car. I thought it was pretty obvious?" she changed the subject.

"Yeah, but I mean…you hate David."

"I dunno," Chloe said thoughtfully. "He's really changed after he found out I was alive. Weirdest shit I've had to explain, like ever. I hope you got my texts."

Max was about to confirm she did in fact receive the messages, but wondered whether or not to tell Chloe about the other messages she would have received if she had failed to figure out the truth. For now, some things were best left unspoken.

"Yeah, I got them," she said finally.

"Alright, well if you're done acting like this is weird, I'm going to take a shower." Chloe looked at her curiously, wondering if there was something Max was keeping from her, but quickly brushed it off as she left for the bathroom.

After Chloe's shower, Max laid out the details for her. They had a week to stop Armageddon, and the only way to do that was to first solve the mystery of who was behind everything. Max explained the receiver and the transmitter that Warren believed lay somewhere in Blackwell. Chloe sat through the whole explanation and didn't ask many questions. After a week of sitting around without Max, Max could tell she was itching to solve the rest of this mystery, or just cause any kind of mayhem she could. When it was about an hour before midnight, the pair sneaked out the window and got into Chloe's car to head straight to Blackwell.

The two stood around in Max's room, waiting for Warren to show. They had amassed a few tools: flash lights, duct tape, and a thick piece of scrap metal Chloe found that was to double as a crowbar. They had taken the necessary precautions to breaking into an office, being sure to silence cell phones and cover any distinct features. For Chloe, that meant tying back her blue hair and wearing a hood. Max's blue streak also had to be tucked away, hidden in one of Chloe's spare beanies. They wore dark clothes to blend in with the night, though Max thought the notion to be ridiculous.

"We're super heroes, not ninjas!" she insisted.

"But heroes have costumes too! Plus we're total badasses." Chloe reasoned.

Max scoffed. "So what's your super hero name? The Blue Hood?"

"I didn't say we had names," Chloe shot back.

"Next thing I know it, we'll be wearing spandex onesies," Max grumbled to herself. "And where is Warren?"

There was a conveniently timed knock on the door as Warren walked in. Immediately, he balked at their clothes and halted in the doorway.

"Max, why are you dressed like a hipster ninja?" he said as he suppressed a laugh.

"See," Max gloated, much to Chloe's chagrin. She pointed between the two of them. "Warren, Chloe. Chloe, Warren."

Warren held out a hand. "The way I hear it, you're supposed to be dead."

Chloe gave a smirk as she shook it. "You're supposed to be funny."

Warren scratched his head. "Ouch. Did you bring me along just to be her punching bag, Max?"

"Oh, I'm just teasing. I don't bite," Chloe said with a laugh. "Much," she whispered as she winked and brushed past Max's elbow intentionally.

They made their way to Principal Wells's office and got to the front door. Max examined the lock thoughtfully. It hadn't changed from the previous timeline, and a homemade sugar bomb should have been enough to do the trick. Warren was already on his phone, searching whatever legally-questionable forums he used to research bomb making. Max almost wanted to jab a finger at him and yell "Ah-ha!" as she discovered that Warren didn't actually know the recipe off the top of his head.

But before either of them could impress the other by way of suggesting a bomb to blow open the door, Chloe was already digging through her pockets, pulling out a small box that looked like a pencil case. She dumped into her hand the contents of the box, holding up a few of the thin metal instruments for Max to see: lockpicks. With a mischievous grin, Chloe dashed to the door and began inserting the lock picks, keeping her left hand on the torque wrench to apply pressure and using the tool in her right hand to rake the pins along the inside. Max was grateful for her enthusiasm, but recalled the last time Chloe had attempted this.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but you tried picking the lock last time. Warren and I can make a bomb and it'll-"

Max stopped short of finishing when the handle clicked and the tumbler turned. Chloe flung open the door dramatically, holding it aside and gesturing with her arm for Max and Warren to enter.

"Ye of little faith," she chided proudly. "You were out for a week. I was hella bored. Plus, I figured we'd run into something like this eventually, so I decided to hone my skills and make myself useful."

"Damn," Warren sighed. "Now I'm really feeling like the useless one."

Chloe patted him on the back. "Chin up, I haven't learned everything. You can still be the plucky sidekick."

"I'm feeling more like the expendable extra at this point."

"You're not wearing red. You'll be fine."

Warren rolled his eyes at the Star Trek reference. "That makes me feel so much better."

They entered the room cautiously on tip toes, trying their hardest not to make any more sounds than they needed to. It was one thing to be caught outside roaming the halls. It was another thing entirely to be inside the principal's office. Max and Warren went straight for the walls and examined each outlet for the receiver while Chloe sauntered over to Wells's desk. She flopped into the chair and kicked back her feet onto the wooden surface, gazing around the room.

"Chloe!" Max hissed.

"You two go on looking. I like it here."

Max scowled but continued to comb through the room. Several minutes later and the trio were just as empty handed as they had been when they first entered. The receiver was nowhere to be found. Max was left scratching her head, quite literally, as she took a stance behind Chloe, who was currently spinning in her new favorite chair behind Principal Wells's desk. Warren had his hands resting on top of his head, scanning the room for anything he could have possibly missed.

"Warren, do you think it's possible that it's not here? Or maybe we're looking for the wrong thing entirely?"

Warren shook his head as he dug around more. "No it's-"

Chloe cursed loudly as she accidentally kicked over a pile of papers as she was spinning the chair. Max gave her an annoyed look, to which Chloe responded impishly by sticking her tongue out at her. Max rolled her eyes as she returned her attention to Warren, who was pacing a hole in the floor.

"It's gotta be here somewhere. Think about it like this: whoever put the bug in your room had to have access to the dorm and your room specifically, be able to move around the campus without raising any flags, and they had to know your schedule."

"My schedule?" Max questioned.

"So that they didn't plant the bug when you were in your room. That only leaves teachers and the principal as suspects."

"But we still haven't found anything yet!" she exclaimed, stating the obvious.

"I'm not so sure about that," Chloe said from the chair as she looked down at the stack of papers she was collecting from her earlier blunder. She held up an opened letter addressed to Wells and gave it to Max. She felt the paper between her fingers, noting the fancy logo embossed on the envelope and the thicker gauge stock of the paper itself. Her rising excitement upon finding this letter quickly turned sour as she recognized the large "P" stylized on the envelope.

"It's from the Prescott Foundation," Max pointed out with disdain.

"And it's already been opened," Chloe added.

Max delicately separated the open halves of the envelope to extract the letter inside. She definitely didn't want to leave anything any more out of place than they were. She pulled out the letter and unfolded it to read.

_Principal Wells,_

_As discussed earlier, I have upheld my part of the bargain by delivering Nathan's reports. I'm sure you are well aware of your inability to share these documents with anyone else, lest you face severe legal consequences. As for your end of the bargain, I do hope you'll come to understand the full extent of the repercussions of any action you take against Nathan, myself, or my Foundation. Reputation is something I take very seriously, and I will not stand for any baseless slander that is breathed in my direction._

_Sincerely, Sean Prescott_

"Whoa," Chloe let out a low whistle. "Dude's got some serious passive aggressive issues. I see where Nathan gets his crazy from."

"What reports is Nathan's father talking about?"

"Beats me," Chloe said with a shrug. She started digging through the desk drawers as Warren began rifling through the cabinet next to the wall. Max took the pile of papers from Chloe and began looking through them herself.

"Found something," Chloe called as Max dropped the papers and Warren walked over.

"What is this?" Max asked as she took the paperclipped bundle of papers.

"It's got Nathan's name on it. It looks like a...what is it?"

Max's finger traced one of the lines of text. "Check out that name: Dr. Gregory Collins, Mental Health Counselor. It's Nathan's therapy file."

Chloe drummed the desk with her fingers thoughtfully. "So Daddy Dirtbag sends the principal a report and a threatening letter, all to do what, exactly?"

Max couldn't make up a sound explanation with the given facts, and couldn't answer Chloe. She skimmed through the therapy file, trying her best to make sense of the long paragraphs punctuated by medical jargon. The report was actually a collection of several sessions, each with notes handwritten presumably by Dr. Gregory Collins himself. The notes described Nathan as being "unstable" and "unpredictably volatile," things Max already knew firsthand. The more Max read through it, the greater picture she got about the state of Nathan's mental health. But in the end, she learned no more than she had known going in: Nathan had issues.

The last page of the report contained the most medical jargon, though the format wasn't a huge wall of text. There were title blocks with some recognizable labels, such as " _Symptoms_ " and " _Recommended treatments_ " and  _"Current medication_ ". The last box at the bottom was " _Prescription_ " and it had some drug named " _Haldol_ " with the dosage written as 5mg. She had no idea what kind of drug that was, but made a note of it to look up later. If Sean Prescott didn't want anyone other than the principal to have these files, they must be important.

" _Haldol_ , 5 milligrams," she said out loud as she typed it into her phone.

"What?" Warren asked.

"It's a drug, I think. The therapist prescribed some for Nathan."

Chloe looked at the file as she hovered over Max's shoulder. "Why would the principal need any of this, though? We still have no idea what kind of deal they had."

"Guys, maybe we could save the theorizing for when security isn't heading in our direction..." Warren warned as he crouched underneath the window, pointing towards the figure moving towards the building with a flashlight.

"Shit! Pack it up, we're outta here," Chloe said as she quickly began to gather together the papers into a neat stack and rearrange them as best as her memory would allow. Warren went to all the furniture they pushed out of the way and nudged it back into place, hoping that the indents in the carpet would go unnoticed. Max meanwhile was taking as many pictures as she could of the precious file Sean Prescott had tried to keep from prying eyes. She only got about halfway through the bundle when Chloe tugged on her arm to drag her out of the office.

"We have to go, Max! Put it back!" Chloe urged.

"Gimme a second!" Max shot back as she snapped the last few pictures of the file. She hurriedly stuffed the bundle of papers into Principal Wells's desk and ran off to follow Chloe and Warren.

"You know, the added security is your fault," Warren mused as they crept to the back of the school.

"Sorry for getting shot at," Max offered back sarcastically.

"Oh no, it's completely fine. I love a little challenge when I'm breaking into my school and risking expulsion," Warren said back, equally sarcastic. "So what's the plan? I thought we were going to find the receiver. But without it…"

"I…I don't know," Max said with disappointment. "I thought so too."

Chloe quickly jumped in. "I don't know either, but we should all go home first. We'll figure this out later. Bye Warren!" she said with strange quickness as she tugged Max towards the parking lot.

Warren paused in confusion, watching Max be dragged by the arm by the other blue haired girl. "Home?"

Chloe was still dragging Max to the car when one of the new hired security spotted them. Just like in the last timeline, Max jumped into the car as Chloe floored it, burning a trail of rubber as the guards watched from afar. Max had her hand on her forehead as she muttered, "Just like last time."

"Damn, we almost made it out unseen. Now I'll have a strike against my perfectly spotless record," Chloe said with a laugh.

"Why did you get super weird back there?" Max asked, changing the subject.

Chloe raised her eyebrows at Max as if it were obvious. "Dude. You gotta tell him."

"Tell who? Warren? What do I need to tell him?" Max asked with genuine confusion.

"Did you see that? Are you that oblivious?" she asked dubiously as she looked over. Max shrugged with wide eyes.

"He's totally into you!" Chloe exclaimed. "Were you even here tonight?"

Max stammered, "What? No, he's not…I mean…"

"So you're saying that just anyone would help you break into a school and fight some shadowy organization that literally sent out a death squad to hunt down a high schooler? He's following you into this blindly, and if you don't tell him how things really are, he's going to end up hurt, either by you or by someone worse."

"God…you really think-?"

Chloe nodded. "I see the way he looks at you. You're more to him than just 'that girl with creepy time travel powers.'"

Max rested her head back against the seat. "What am I supposed to do then?" she asked helplessly.

"We could start making out in front of him. I'm sure that'll tell him which side you swing for," Chloe offered cheekily.

"Jeez, I'm being serious!" Max cried.

"And I was being funny. What happened, did you lose your sense of humor in the week? Just talk to him. Be forward. Boys are dense."

"I'm not forward like you, Chloe."

"I know. But you need to do this. Come on, we'll sleep on it. Figure it out tomorrow."

"Alright…"

* * *

_Sunday  
_ _November 3, 2013_

"We're missing something..." Chloe murmured as she stood in front of the giant corkboard in her room. They had printed out several pictures Max had taken of Nathan's therapy file and pinned them to the board, as well as a timeline of the previous week. The sight made Max remember the alternate timeline where she and Chloe had done the exact same thing in their attempt to find Rachel.

"What are we going to do?" she asked again. "The storm is supposed to come by this Friday and we're not even close to finding out the truth behind all of this. We already found Rachel's killer! What more could be out there?"

"The voice said to bring Jefferson to true justice and get Nathan help."

"And save me, don't forget that," Chloe added with a short bark of humorless laughter. She continued, "Well Jefferson is dead, so unless we go hang his dead corpse in front of the courthouse or something like that, I don't see how we can bring him to justice. But Nathan? I say we leave the fucker to rot in jail. It's no less than what he deserves."

"The voice said-"

Chloe interrupted angrily. "I don't give a fuck what the voice said! Why are we running around doing all of this? It makes no sense."

"Well we have to do something! We can't just sit around on our asses while Armageddon is on Friday."

"So what's your plan, then? Ask the voice for some help?"

"Help..." Max whispered to herself. "Help!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked worriedly, unsure of what just happened.

"No, not 'help'. Help! We get help!"

Chloe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Uh... earth to Max, you okay?"

"We talk to Nathan's therapist. We figure out if he knows anything about Principal Wells having the files. If we can get him to testify that Nathan is mentally disturbed then-"

"Why would you want to do that? Weren't you helping Tamara so that you could put him away and get justice for Rachel? If he gets off easy-"

"I'm not talking about setting him free. I'm talking about changing him. For some people, inner demons are their worst enemy. Holding up a mirror to show them their insides is more painful than letting them walk a lonely road. He's not getting off easy."

Chloe's face still looked almost disappointed, but she nodded her head in understanding.

...

A quick internet search and a short drive later, Max and Chloe sat in the parking lot of a business park, about to meet Dr. Gregory Collins. The plan seemed great up until the part where Max realized she had to say something to the doctor. His client was the son of the most high profile individual in all of Arcadia Bay and Max had to wring out every last bit of information from him. It wasn't going to be easy.

Max took a deep breath and caught Chloe watching her out of the corner of her eye. She was holding out her hand, and Max took it gratefully. Chloe squeezed with a smile.

"You got this."

They walked into the waiting room of Dr. Collins's office and sat down. As Max looked around to take in her surroundings, she couldn't help but think about how Nathan could've sat in her very chair, about to receive a diagnosis of his own. The thought made her shudder.

A receptionist came out holding a clipboard and looking around the room.

"Maxine Caulfield? Right this way, please."

They followed her through the office to one of the back rooms where they came upon a door with a plaque outside that read "Dr. Gregory Collins."

The receptionist knocked on the door and opened as Dr. Collins responded from inside. She left soon after, leaving a nervous Max and Chloe inside the room with the doctor.

"Good afternoon, I'm Doctor Collins."

"Hi, I'm Max, and this is Edie," she explained casually. Chloe smiled and nodded to play the part of "Edie" for whatever scheme Max was going to unfold, or rather in this case, improvise.

"Nice to meet you. Now I must preface this session by stating that couple's therapy is not my strong suit. I'm more of a mental health therapist."

"Couple's therapy?" Chloe asked incredulously as she stared wide eyed at Max. "You didn't-!"

"Yes, dear," Max cooed as she patted her hand on Chloe's knee gently. She shot Chloe a sideways glare, telling her to play along.

Chloe had to summon all her strength and then some to refrain from rolling her eyes. "I mean... of course. It must have slipped my mind that  _we both agreed to this_ ," she said through clenched teeth, with emphasis on the last few words.

Dr. Collins was looking between the two of them and their awkward banter. He raised his eyebrows as he pulled out a clipboard and buried his face in it, though he kept his eyes strategically above the top just to observe the two. He caught Chloe giving him a weird look, and he immediately ducked behind the clipboard again.

"Now there will be plenty of time during the session for all of us to take a few steps back and reevaluate our progress today, so I must ask if you are okay with beginning now and saving discussion for later, hm?"

"Why yes, of course. Our apologies," Max agreed emphatically.

That seemed to get him to smile. "Very well, then. Actually, I was wondering why you chose to come to me for a couple's session instead of an actual relationship coach."

Max put on her best bullshitting act and began the hard part. "A good friend recommended us. He said that you had helped his son through a very difficult time, and we were looking to get through some difficult times of our own."

"Oh, well I'm flattered! Who might this friend be?"

There was the slightest of pauses before Max went all in. "Sean Prescott."

The two of them watched as the color drained from the doctor's face.

"P-Prescott? You must be mistaken," he said with forced congeniality.

Max kept her stone faced expression. "I don't think I am."

The doctor's eyes narrowed as he pointed a finger at them. "You two... you aren't here for couple's therapy, are you?"

"Hell, no," Chloe snorted as she kicked back in her chair, shedding the role of 'Edie'.

Max leaned forward and folded her arms on the desk, causing the doctor to back up a bit. "We're here on business for Alexander Rogers' private investigation office. We're here to discuss exactly what business you had with Sean and Nathan Prescott."

Doctor Collins cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I couldn't say anything to you, even if I wanted to, which I assure you, I don't."

Max took the business card Tamara had given her earlier and placed it on the desk, sliding it toward him in dramatic fashion. "I'm in direct contact with Tamara Nelson, State Attorney. If I don't return to her with information she wants, I will have no choice but to come back with a warrant as members of both the police and PI's office turn this place inside out. After doing so, I'm sure news will get to Sean Prescott that you talked to the state about his psychotic son. I can't imagine he'll be too pleased about that."

Doctor Collins gulped. "I don't think I'm at liberty to say-."

Max slammed her fist onto the desk, and the doctor jumped. "Nathan Prescott killed two girls! Two innocent girls with their whole lives ahead of them. He ruined countless more by drugging them and violating them for his sick fantasies. Are you going to just stand there and watch?"

"Don't you see, I can't tell you anything?" he burst out helplessly. "Doctor-patient confidentiality forbids me from saying anything to you. I'm sorry, I really am. But there's nothing I can do for you."

Max glared at him with a look that could've melted steel. "You think you're sorry now? He did all of this on your drugs and diagnosis, Dr. Collins. How do you think that's going to look to your future potential clients? How do you think it will look in front of the court when the families of those girls sue you for everything you're worth? When the state wants to charge you as an accessory to a double murder?"

Max's speech had become less and less of an act, and more real to her by the second. She may not have been working for the Private Investigator's office, but she sure as hell meant every venomous word she had hurled at the doctor. Her anger seemed to come off her in waves, and even Chloe felt it, who backed up in her seat intimidated. The doctor finally nodded solemnly in defeat and put his face into his palms.

"I... alright, then. I'm not really the type of doctor to sit people down on a couch and ask them to describe their dreams. I'm much better at listening and prescribing additional help. Mr. Prescott came to me asking if I could see his son, Nathan. After our first meeting, I could immediately see that Nathan needed a lot more help, as in serious help, far above my own abilities in dealing with psychosis."

"What's that?" Max coughed as she recovered her voice after all the shouting.

"Psychosis is a condition that makes the patient prone to fits of anger, or sudden mood swings. In extreme cases, it can even cause schizophrenia or other reality-separating delusions. Nathan was experiencing moderate symptoms of this, though he showed frequent flashes of the extreme side. These flashes worried me, so I recommended other doctors to his father Sean."

"Did he ever visit those other doctors?"

The doctor shook his head. "To my knowledge, never. In fact, he insisted that I continue to talk to Nathan. He said that he "knew his son" and it was unnecessary to go to other doctors. Then he had me write up a prescription for him."

"Haldol," Max remembered.

He nodded. "Haldol is a drug used to treat psychosis, among other mental instabilities, but I personally don't believe in its use. Drugs, in my opinion, are only able to prolong the inevitable, to mask the sickness lying beneath. I much prefer to send my patients to other doctors to receive more natural care."

"So why did you write it, then?" Max asked.

The doctor held up his hands as if helpless. "His father practically forced me to. He didn't seem all that interested in what I had to say, really. You must understand, Sean Prescott isn't a man you can exactly reason with. He has–how can I put this gently?–great influence. I warned him about the side effects of the drug, but he didn't care. It almost seemed like he was doing this just to get it out of the way."

Max glanced at Chloe, whose blank expression didn't give her much to work with.

"One more question: why was Raymond Wells given a copy of this report? Wouldn't Mr. Prescott want to avoid this file from reaching other eyes?"

The name seemed to confuse Doctor Collins. "I don't know who that is, I'm afraid. But I'm certain my office didn't send that to him. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember? The only files we produce are the ones we keep for our own records and the ones we give to our clients. What they do with those files is none of our business."

Max considered all that the doctor was saying. He seemed to be telling the truth, and since he was already breaking Doctor-patient confidentiality, it made little sense for him to hold back anything else. The reasons for sending the principal a copy of Nathan's file were still unclear, though Max wagered she would have to find that out from the principal himself. That was a conversation she wasn't looking forward to.

Max warned, "If Sean Prescott contacts you-"

The doctor interrupted her by shaking his head. "I won't say a word. If he knows I broke contract... just pray he doesn't find out."

Max and Chloe left the building, hearts still racing from the intense conversation, or rather interrogation, that took place. Somehow Max was able to get the doctor to break confidentiality and walk out unscathed. She had newfound information on Sean's relationship with Nathan, information that could be critical to understanding what was going on. They got into the car and headed back to Chloe's house.

Chloe punched Max in the arm playfully. "That was pretty badass of you, coming up with that stuff about working for Tamara on the spot. I didn't know how we were going to get him to talk."

Max shrugged it off. "It wasn't all a lie. I was helping Tamara with her case. Not all made up."

"Still, it was pretty cool to watch. You're turning hardcore," Chloe remarked with a grin.

"There's still a lot we don't know. And I've only got 5 more days to figure it out."

"We," Chloe corrected.

"Huh?"

"We've got 5 more days to figure this out. And don't worry, if that voice in your head hasn't popped up again to tell you you're doing things wrong, I think it's safe to say we're on the right track."

"But I'd rather not wait for it to say so..." Max added.

Chloe nodded. "Fair enough. Do you know what the voice in my head is saying?"

"Uh...that your girlfriend is an amazing person?" Max said with a laugh.

Chloe made a face. "Ugh, you're so mushy. No, I've had a super stressed-out weekend. I need to unwind, I need to decompress, I need...I need to bake."

Max let out a disappointed sigh. "And what about food? I'm starving."

Chloe glanced at Max gleefully, as if she was waiting for Max to ask. "Then would my super amazing girlfriend mind picking up food for dinner? I'm feeling Thai. You can take my truck."

Max sighed but agreed. "Whatever would you do without me?"

* * *

Max knocked on the door, bag of takeout in hand, hoping that Chloe would come to the door quickly, as the food was getting cold. Finally, the door swung open but instead of Chloe, David stood there instead. Max almost wanted to jump into a bush and hide, but remembered that ever since Chloe's return, the Price household was starting to work like a normal family again. Max offered a quiet "hello" but David only smiled weakly and nodded as he ushered her inside. Max walked through the front door and immediately saw Joyce sitting at the kitchen table across from another couple. They looked strangely familiar, but she couldn't quite place them.

Joyce was reading over something together with the couple. She had a somber look on her face that matched David's, but looked up when she noticed Max.

"Oh hi, Max."

"Hey, Joyce."

The couple at the table saw her and recognized that she was carrying food. The woman got up and walked up to her, motioning for the man to begin cleaning the table.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I didn't know you were having guests, Joyce. Here, James, let's move our things."

"No, it's okay," Max assured her. "I was going to go upstairs anyway."

"Oh. Well, alright then."

"Max, I've moved your things to Chloe's room," Joyce said with a knowing look. Max nodded and went up the stairs, questions still buzzing about the couple in the kitchen.

She knocked on Chloe's door before slowly opening it, expecting to be greeted with an overwhelming cloud of fresh smoke. Instead, there was the usual smell of Chloe herself, which Max had grown accustomed to after having woken up wrapped in her arms several times. There was still the lingering smell of cigarettes and old weed, but the scent was not as strong as the smell of alcohol that permeated the room.

Chloe wasn't on her bed or at her desk, though Max could barely hear her shaky breathing. She looked around the room and finally spotted a tuft of blue hair poking out from behind the bed. Max walked over cautiously, placing the food on the desk before engaging the other girl.

Chloe had her legs splayed out in front of her, a brown bottle of alcohol held loosely in her right hand. Without turning her head, she glanced over towards Max's feet to acknowledge her. Her gaze quickly returned to the spot between her own feet. A thumb rubbed lazily over the surface of the bottle, collecting condensation. She lifted it to her lips as a drop of the condensation rolled down the glass and fell onto her lap. The bottle went back to the floor next to her, and Max next to it.

"Talk to me," Max urged gently.

Chloe shook her head, thrusting the bottle at Max in response. Max gave her a disgusted look, and Chloe set the bottle down with an exasperated huff. Max opened her mouth as if to berate her, but Chloe shook her head again. Fed up, Max snatched the bottle from her grasp and took a long swig, swallowing the whole thing this time, unlike her previous attempt at the docks. She didn't even wince as the liquid burned her throat. But it still didn't seem to change Chloe's mind about talking.

"I took your stupid drink," Max said with distaste. "Now what's going on?"

Chloe's eyes were red and puffy, and the sight saddened Max.

"It's not fair," she mumbled to herself.

"What's not fair?"

"We were supposed to run away together. Grow old together. Even... die together. But I came back and she didn't."

She flipped up the bottle to her lips and downed the last of the liquid inside.

"Chloe, this isn't healthy..."

"They're here."

Max realized she was talking about the couple. "Who's here?"

"Rachel's parents. Bunch of damned cowards..."

"Chloe!" Max exclaimed, appalled.

"It's fucking true, and you know it," she spat bitterly. "They weren't the ones making missing posters. They weren't the ones going to the police station every week to ask for search parties. They thought it would be easier to just imagine she ran away or some other bullshit fantasy."

"Chloe, that's not fair to them."

"Yeah, yeah, and life isn't fucking fair!" Chloe burst out angrily. "Do you think I don't already know that? It wasn't fair to take her away from me, and it's not fair to bring me back! I should've... I should've just stayed dead to avoid all of this fucking mess."

"You take that back," Max warned in a dangerously low voice that was on the edge of cracking. "I fought through hell to make up for my mistakes and bring you back, so don't you dare give up now, not when we're so close to finishing this."

Chloe's eyes cleared for a second and her expression softened. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't... God, I'm a mess when I drink."

"You're a mess regardless,"Max added, half serious but still relieved that Chloe had come to her senses.

Chloe finally explained. "They're talking to my parents downstairs. They want to make a scholarship fund in our names. A memorial scholarship. With my name on it, right next to Rachel's." She looked to the ceiling as she fought back tears. She stammered helplessly, "I don't... I can't... I mean, what do I do?"

"You know that voice in my head earlier? It told me that everything happens for a purpose. That means that you came back for a purpose. I don't know what you're supposed to do, but I know that whatever you do will be exactly what you need to do."

"Is that supposed to be some inspiring speech to make me feel better?"

"Well did it work?"

"A little," Chloe admitted quietly.

Max smiled. "Then it was exactly what I needed to say. Come on, food's getting cold."

* * *

_Monday  
_ _November 4, 2013_

Chloe had returned Max to her dorm after she had spent the night there. She was still a student, no matter how powerful she was with her abilities. The way she saw it, she had to play the part of a student if she wanted to convince whoever was watching her she had truly been kicked off the case and was no longer interested in the Prescott family. The other upside to going back to school was to hopefully get lucky and find out which faculty was the spy.

So here she sat in English class, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Max Caulfield?" the teacher called from the front of the class.

"Yes?" she said, looking up.

"Principal Wells would like to speak with you."

Max looked nervously back at Warren, whose gaze warned Max of danger. Max swallowed hard as she walked down the hall to Principal Wells's office.

"Ah, Max! Please, have a seat. How are you doing?"

"Better than before, that's for sure."

Pretending that she hadn't just been here a day before, she took a seat rather awkwardly. When she saw that Principal Wells wasn't looking directly at her, her eyes darted around room to make sure nothing was egregiously left out of place.

"Good, good. A week in the hospital is difficult for anyone to manage, so I'm glad to see you're pulling through. I just wanted to make sure that Blackwell is doing everything it can to help you get back on your feet. Tell me, how are your classes?"

"I'm a little behind in homework, but the courses aren't too bad."

_Now or never, Max._

Max put on her  _bullshitting_  hat again as she prepared to drag information out of the principal. "Actually, I was having a little trouble with Science Lab. I missed one of the days and needed to make it up some time."

"Ah, of course. If you need help, I can talk to Ms. Grant to ensure you a makeup time. What was the lab for?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but we were doing a study of the drug called Haldol. It's often used to treat psychosis, though sometimes other conditions such as schizophrenia or paranoia. Personally, I always thought that drugs were a last resort, but when you've done all you can to help someone, I don't see much of a choice."

Principal Wells seemed to stiffen immediately, like he was just bitten by a venomous snake. His jaw clenched and his throat bulged as he swallowed hard. He got up and walked around his desk towards Max, though his movements were so jerky and awkward it seemed like each muscle was moving individually. Max swallowed nervously in response, and she slowly rose from her seat. Principal Wells halted his advance when the chair came between them. He cleared his throat and spoke in a low voice.

"Trespassing is a crime, Max. Breaking and entering, that's a crime too. I'm sure you understand that."

Max retorted just as seriously. "So is failing to report a crime. You knew about the Dark Room, didn't you?"

Wells took a deep breath before returning around the desk to his seat. He sat down and pulled out the bottom drawer, and Max's body tensed. He lifted from it a half-empty glass containing a reddish brown liquid and placed it on his desk. Max saw that it was only a bottle of liquor, and relaxed a bit, but not too much. Here was the principal of an esteemed private school, about to have a drink in the middle of the school day in the presence of a student. Whatever he needed to drink for must be of the utmost importance. Wells reached down and pulled out a short drinking glass, which he placed next to the bottle. The stopper made a squeak as it was pulled out, and the liquid sloshed around in the glass before Principal Wells downed it in a single gulp. He pointed his now empty glass at the door.

"Lock the door, Max."

Max glanced back nervously, but didn't budge from her seat.

"For Chrissakes, Max, I'm not going to do anything to you!" he blurted in an uncharacteristically rough fashion.

Max balled her fists with anxiety, hoping she wouldn't have to use her rewind power to get out of this. But she complied, getting up out of her seat slowly and going to the door to lock it. She sat back down in her seat, and Principal Wells rubbed his face with his palms. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before he spoke, and Max sat with bated breath.

"Two years ago, 2011. Nathan Prescott was a sophomore, just another kid trying to fit in by being cool. Always had a lot of money, always liked to show it. Word was he would buy pot and recreational drugs not only for him, but for his friends. I guess it was his way of buying popularity. After a while though, he wanted more than just doing drugs, he wanted the thrill of selling."

He pulled out a folder from his desk and opened it.

"This is an incident report that talks about the first time Nathan was caught selling. He was caught with about $2000 in cash with nearly 100 grams of pot in his bag. And that was just by the time we found him. His father, Sean Prescott, has this nasty habit of reminding me how much the Prescott Foundation donated to Blackwell and the whole of Arcadia Bay, especially when we caught Nathan doing something wrong. I had little choice but to deal with it internally."

"It says that Mark Jefferson was the teacher who reported the incident."

"I didn't know, then. In fact, I didn't know until now that Jefferson was the one behind all of this."

"Didn't know, or didn't want to know?" Max accused.

"How dare you!"

"No, how dare you, Principal Wells!" she retorted in almost a growl. "You turned a blind eye to how Jefferson manipulated and used Nathan for his money and connections. People have died because you refused to act."

"You are way out of line, Maxine. Do you have any idea what it's like to be powerless and watch everyone around you suffer under the pressure of the Prescott's? To know that something is going on but not having the ability to do anything about it?"

"I do," Max said louder than she had intended to. She repeated softer this time, "I do."

"What do you intend to do now? Drag my name and reputation through the mud because I was powerless? Have the board of education fire me in the middle of the school year? If you want your revenge on me, now's your chance."

"This isn't about revenge. It's about doing the right thing. Now, I have the files that Sean Prescott gave to you in confidence. He doesn't know that I have a copy. If you don't tell me everything you know about Sean, Nathan, and Jefferson, I will give the file to Tamara Nelson, state attorney, and she will make sure it is distributed to every local news outlet that wants a story."

Wells glared at her. "Tamara Nelson? Did she put you up to this?"

"No. I did," Max retorted, surprising Wells.

"I only heard...rumors about Nathan's activities. By the time I knew for sure what had happened, that poor girl Rachel Amber had gone missing. I...I refused to believe what happened, so I went to Mr. Prescott with my suspicions. It seems he had at least a semblance of what was going on, since he actually listened to my deal."

"What deal was that?"

"That he would give Nathan medication or whatever help he needed to stop his madness. Sean was then to send me all of his reports as proof that he was keeping his end of the bargain. In return, I wouldn't tell the police what I knew about Nathan, should they come around to ask."

"That's no deal, that's just decent parenting! Nathan was already on other prescription medications before you told Sean to give him more drugs. Your 'deal' did nothing."

"I was doing my best to help him!" Wells said angrily.

"No, you were protecting yourself," Max rebutted.

"What would you have me do?"

"Stand up and fight. Rachel Amber is dead, Chloe Price is dead, Mark Jefferson is dead, I was almost killed! All because of your inability to fight!"

"Max..."

"Who set you up? Who told you to bug my room? Was it Sean Prescott?"

The principal was agape with frustration that was bordering on anger. "What...bug? You are completely out of line, Max! That is an absolutely ridiculous accusation! You think that I had you targeted? I would never!"

"The bug was in my room behind an electrical outlet. The person who put it there had to have access to the school grounds, the student dorms, and my class schedule. Not to mention, a need to cover up their mistake."

Principal Wells's eyes narrowed. "You may see myself a coward, but I'm no killer. I've regretted every single day since I heard that Rachel Amber died. Over a hundred years of school history and the first student death happens on my watch. You can be sure that it won't happen again."

"Then fight this," Max pleaded. "Give me the staff personnel files. Let me find who's responsible."

"Max, I can't...! I can't have you running after my staff, guessing which one is out to kill you!"

Max leaned back in her chair and she knew she had won. "Fine, then release a statement to the police. Have the police question the staff. But you know that any questioning will eventually lead back to you. I'm not sure if you want that."

Wells knew he had been beat. Max really left him with no choice. Even if he were to take action against her, Max had claimed she was willing to go down if it meant bringing him with her. Unable to call her bet, he was forced to fold and comply with Max's demands. "It seems you've put a lot of thought into this, Max. I hope you put just as much thought into what you're about to do next."

Principal Wells pulled out a stack of folders that Max assumed were the staff files. He slid them across the desk to her and reached once more for his bottle of alcohol. Max took the files and stuffed them into her bag as she heard the sloshing of liquid inside the glass. Wells sighed and shook his head at himself, staring into the bottom of the glass.

"I don't know what it means to you, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry," he said before downing the liquid. Max got up and made her way to the door. Her mind was racing. Did she really just storm into Principal Wells's office and demand information from him?  _What a badass._  Maybe Chloe's 'bite-me' attitude was rubbing off on her more than she anticipated. As she left, a mixture of confusion, anger, and anxiety nipped closely at her heels.

...

It was with a strong irony that Max returned to the chemistry lab for class. What she told Principal Wells wasn't entirely a lie; she really did have work to catch up on. But it was still class time right now, so she supposed it didn't count. The lab tables were buzzing with her classmates who were rushing to collect all of the required chemicals for today's experiment. Max however was left at her table, staring at the lab manual. All of her busyness in trying to save the world had caused her to neglect some of her studies, even more than she usually did. As a result, she was completely unprepared for the lab.

"Max!" Ms. Grant called from the front of the room. Max looked up to see her teacher approaching. "Max, do you know what we're doing?"

"Sorry, Ms. Grant, I'll...I've almost figured it out."

"Have you read the lab manual yet?" she asked.

"No..." Max admitted sheepishly.

"It's alright, Max. It's just better if you said so when we started. You were in the hospital for a week, and in my book, that's a perfectly valid excuse. You can make this lab up some other time when you're not as behind with your other work, alright? Now why don't you go partner up with-"

"AH!" came a scream from the other side of the room, followed by muffled cursing.

Ms. Grant quickly walked over to see what all the commotion was, and Max peered over the crowd that began to gather. Brooke was clutching her hand as Victoria was standing there, looking exasperated with her hands on her head. Ms. Grant was shooing the students away, trying to give her room. As the crowd parted, Max could see the paper towel wrapped around her hand begin to seep through with blood. There were glass shards on the table and small pool of spilled chemicals. No doubt someone had dropped a beaker or test tube and Brooke had cut herself on one of the shards. From the looks of it, Victoria was her partner.

"I told you to be careful, dammit!" Brooke cursed as Victoria began to look annoyed.

Victoria now had her arms crossed. "If we weren't partnered up, maybe you wouldn't have to deal with this!"

Brooke sneered back, "You think I wanted to be partnered with Blackwell's bitch princess? Ha!"

"Enough!" Ms. Grant said sternly as she examined Brooke's hand. "Victoria, get the glass disposal kit and start cleaning this up. Don't touch any of the pieces, just use the brush. Max? Can you take Brooke to the nurse's office?"

"Sure," Max nodded as she opened the door to leave the lab.

The hallway was relatively quiet compared to the bustle of the science lab. Every footstep echoed to remind them that everyone else was still in class. Did she find it somewhat awkward that in the other timeline Brooke and Warren were dating but in this one Warren still had a crush on her? Yes. Would she rather be walking down the hallway with Victoria, who in the other timeline turned out to not be that bad of a person, but in this timeline still hated her guts? Nope. Was this entire inner dialogue just so that she could pass the time as she walked to the nurse's office? Definitely.

"So...you and Warren?" Brooke began hesitantly.

The sudden question shocked Max, who took a few moments to respond. "Wha-no? I mean, what? No, that's not...we're not-"

"Oh," Brooke interrupted. "I thought that with all the time he was spending with you that you two might be...um..."

"We're not...we're just friends."

"Whatever you say," she quipped.

Subconsciously Max already knew why Brooke was asking about her and Warren, even though Warren liking her had nothing to do with Brooke. She was about to press the matter further when she saw the door to the computer lab open. Mr. Gale, the substitute, appeared in the hallway. When he saw the two, he looked just as startled as they did. He quickly collected himself and cleared his throat.

"Girls! What are you two doing out of class right now?" he asked.

"Brooke cut her hand in science lab and we're going to the nurse's office."

"Ah. I see. Forgive my asking," he said as he continued down the hallway. Mr. Gale doesn't teach computers, so what was he doing in the lab? Max watched suspiciously while Brooke continued in the direction of the nurse's office. After a few steps of realizing Max was no longer walking with her, she turned around to Max.

"You okay, Max?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, just...go on without me. I need to check something."

"Uh huh," Brooke replied, obviously aware that something was fishy.

Max poked her head into the computer lab, finding it dark and empty. There was the quiet hum of several of the computer fans working dutifully to keep their components cooled. However hard it was to see in the dark, she couldn't risk turning on the lights and risking a teacher discovering her snooping around. Max went to the back of the room, where most of the rarely used equipment went. There was a large pile of dusty desktop cases and unused monitors, among other electronic doo dads. There was a section of the pile that had recently been moved, as evidenced by the lack of dust in one particular area.

Max knelt down and looked into the cavity in the pile of junk. At the end of the short tunnel lay an electrical outlet, which to anyone else under normal circumstances would've meant absolutely nothing. But for Max, it was just the break she needed. Unfortunately for her it was empty, but Mr. Gale's panicked look and his suspicious appearance in the computer lab were more than enough for Max to understand that he had just moved it.

With her new suspect in mind, Max rushed to her room to call Chloe.

...

"You want to do what?" came Chloe's incredulous reply.

"You heard me," Max said back.

"Okay, but really? Breaking into the principal's office at midnight was one thing. But breaking into a teacher's house?"

"He's just a substitute," Max corrected casually.

"Like that makes a difference!" Chloe cried as she threw her hands up in exasperation. "Why now? Why can't we at least wait for night time?"

"That would give him too much time to get rid of it. We need to get to his house and find it ASAP."

"I thought I was supposed to be the one dragging you around to do illegal dumbshit things," Chloe muttered. "What's happened to us?"

"So are you gonna help me, or not?" Max asked.

"Of course I'll help you, but I can't guarantee that even David will be able to get us out of this one if we fuck things up."

"We'll just have to be careful."

"Then get your ass ready. I'm coming to pick you up."

"No costumes this time," Max warned.

"I can't promise anything," Chloe said in a sing-song voice.

"Chloe!" Max growled, but not before she heard the line click as Chloe hung up.

* * *

The orange haze of the sun dipped gently into Arcadia Bay's eponymous bay. Several boats were returning from their day's work out on the waters, riding the gentle waves back to shore. The serene background provided ironic backdrop to Max and Chloe's trespassing adventures that now took them to the house of one Mr. Richard Gale. Using the staff files Principal Wells had grudgingly given up, they had located his home address.

The house was two stories with a shallow driveway that led up to a single car garage. His car sat in the driveway, a black boxy sedan that looked at least ten years old, judging by the fading paint and the poorly maintained headlights. The outside of the house was painted a slate gray, with darker accents around the front porch area and the window trim. It looked like many other houses in bay cities on the Pacific coast, almost causing Max to forget why they were there. Chloe had parked about two blocks down the street, far enough to not be immediately noticed, and close enough to sprint to should they be caught.

Chloe followed Max's lead as she crept along the side of the house towards the back patio door, making sure to duck below any windows. Once they had located the phone box, Chloe pulled out the large bolt cutters she was carrying and cut the phone line. One of the windows had the curtains pulled back, allowing them to look into the house. Crouching under the same window, Max used her phone to snap a quick picture. From this viewing angle, she couldn't see all the way to the front door and could only see the room directly connected to the door. But since it was clear, she nodded to Chloe, who began to work on the lock.

Just then, Max could hear footsteps coming down the stairs and the two of them froze in fear. Max ran to the other side of the house and barely poked her head out from under the window to get a better look inside from a different angle. This portion of the house seemed to be the living room that connected with the stairs, as she saw Mr. Gale descend from the stairs. He sat down at the couch and turned on the TV, blissfully unaware of the two soon-to-be intruders outside. Max gave a thumbs up to Chloe, who continued her work on the lock.

After a few silent moments, Max whispered across the yard. "How long?"

Chloe shook her head. "Harder than I thought."

Max gritted her teeth in acknowledgment. She figured that a lock on an actual house would be more difficult than a simple lock on a school door, but she was counting on Chloe's expertise to pull through. Minutes later, and Chloe still hadn't indicated she was any closer to cracking it than when she started. Max tip toed over to Chloe, who shook her head again.

"Not good. This could take time we don't have to spare. Where is he now?" she asked.

Max crossed the yard again to return to her previous vantage point, but panicked when she couldn't see Mr. Gale in his seat anymore. Her eyes darted around as she looked for any sign of where he went, but didn't want to risk being caught in the window. The glare from the setting sun didn't help her cause either.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"You don't-!" Chloe hissed but caught herself before she could cause too much of a ruckus. After catching herself, she asked, "Do I keep going?"

Max poked her head out from cover once more and was filled with relief when she saw Mr. Gale return to his seat with a drink in his hand. He had probably just gotten up to go to the kitchen.

"I see him. Keep going," she said while giving a thumbs up.

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief and returned to working on the lock. Finally about ten minutes later, she had successfully picked the lock. She let out a low whistle to catch Max's attention, who quickly waved her hand for Chloe to halt. Taking one more glance through the window, she went over to Chloe.

"Don't open it yet!" Max warned in a whisper.

"I have to! If I let go, it'll reset everything and I'll have to restart," she explained.

Max examined the door and looked through the window to make sure that Mr. Gale hadn't gotten up once more. Satisfied that he had not, Max tore off a piece of duct tape and motioned for Chloe to slowly open the door. Barely keeping the door opened enough to expose the lock mechanism, Max taped the latch to the door as to prevent it from reengaging. After that was done, she slowly closed the door.

"Why can't we just go?" Chloe asked.

"Because he's right in the next room. I'm waiting for a distraction," Max said as she checked her phone for the time.

"Distraction?" Chloe repeated with raised eyebrows.

Max held a finger to her lips for quiet as she listened to the road. There was a car approaching the house, and she ran around the side to check who it was. She waved a hand for Chloe to follow and watch. There was a boy probably about their age who got out of the car holding a pizza box. He went to the front door and rang the doorbell, which the two of them could hear from outside. Watching through the window, Max saw Mr. Gale get up from his seat, slightly confused, and go to the door. He opened it and was greeted by a pizza delivery boy holding out what he could only assume was an order for the wrong address.

"Delivery for Richard Gale?" he said while thrusting forward the pizzas.

Mr. Gale was shocked to say the least, having expected someone else's name to be given instead of his own. He stammered a reply.

"Ah, um. What is this?" he asked hesitantly.

The delivery boy read the slip he had. "Pepperoni, mushroom, sausage, olives-"

Mr. Gale interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "No, not the pizza! I mean what's going on? I didn't order a pizza."

The delivery boy continued reading the order slip. "Is this 1018 Hawthorn?"

"Yes…"

The delivery boy raised an eyebrow. "Are you Richard Gale?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then you ordered this pizza. That'll be $24.99, please," he said as he held out his credit card reader.

Mr. Gale threw his hands up. "I didn't order this! This has got to be a mistake."

The delivery boy glared at him. "Hey look man, I've got a delivery order here that says Richard Gale at 1018 Hawthorn. That's you, and that's here."

"I'm sorry, but I can't take this."

"Well I can't take this back! It'll be no good and then the boss will have my ass. Did you have dinner yet?"

"No, but-"

His glare was replaced by a forced smile as he had to advertise to this hard-ass who didn't want to pay up. "Well then look no further! Come on man, it's just $25. If you don't pay up I'm just gonna knock on your door all night until you pay up."

"Fine! This is extortion, I tell you…" Mr. Gale huffed as he stomped upstairs to retrieve his wallet.

Chloe looked over at Max, impressed by the distraction she had created. "Which one of your friends did you call to pull this stunt off?"

"That's not my friend," Max said with a grin.

"You actually ordered a pizza? And that's a real delivery boy?" Chloe asked in wonderment.

"You haven't even seen the best part yet. Come on, let's get inside before he comes back down," she said as she crouched through the back door.

Once inside, they hid in the corner of a room that looked like it was designated for purely storage. Max checked under tables and inside boxes but found no receiver. It was then that she realized that if Gale had brought it home, it may still be in his work bag, which he would keep close to him. She grimaced as her mind raced to think of a solution to finding the receiver without being caught.

There was the sound of footsteps again as Mr. Gale came down the stairs. After a brief interaction with the delivery boy, he huffed and closed the door. His footsteps retreated, probably to the kitchen to set the pizza down. Max was about to go into another room when she saw a familiar book in a box. It was one of the required readings for Mark Jefferson's photography class that talked about lighting and its effects on emotions elicited in pictures. Max picked up the book and noticed that it was heavily used and well annotated. Flipping open the front cover, she saw the name stamped into the page: Mark Jefferson.

Mark Jefferson? What was his book doing here? Max dug through the rest of the box, finding many more books that all belonged to her deceased former teacher, as well as many lecture notes, hand written by him. As much as it disgusted her to think that she had once been eager to learn from this legendary photographer, she was intrigued as to how Mr. Gale received all of these materials.

"Why would the sub have all of Jefferson's shit? It's not like he was going on holiday and planned for this," Chloe mused quietly.

Max dug to the bottom of the box and found an envelope with no address or name written on it. She opened it and found only a short note.

_Plug this into an outlet at Blackwell. Make sure it's protected. $2000 enclosed. $2000 more on completion._   
_-AR_

"AR?" Chloe asked. "Who the hell is AR?"

Alexander Rogers. Max's heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw the signature. Despite what she thought about the seemingly kind private investigator that Tamara seemed to trust so much, it had to be him. He had the skillset and knowledge necessary to plant a bug, and he had the resources needed to pay off either the police or in this case, substitute teachers. He was in close contact with Tamara Nelson and could just as easily have bugged her office as well. And being the leading investigator on Nathan's case, he could steer the evidence any way he wanted to, and Tamara would believe him.

As Max got up from her crouch, she saw the receiver, just sitting there on the kitchen counter. It was a small white plastic box that sat all alone, waiting for her to come and grab it. She looked around to see if it was being used as some sort of bait. Finally after skipping several beats, Max's heart finally kicked into overdrive, as if to compensate for its previous inactivity. She sprinted straight to the receiver, grabbed it, and stumbled her way to the door, not caring about the sound she was making. Chloe ran after her, worried that Mr. Gale would hear them.

"What the…hey!" Chloe heard Mr. Gale say as he got up from his seat to chase the unknown intruders out of his house.

Max ran around the side of the house towards the front, Chloe right behind her. As they ran past the front of his house, Chloe spotted a large tow truck, loading Mr. Gale's car onto the platform. Mr. Gale appeared in the front door, incensed that a tow truck was loading up his car without permission. Chloe realized that the tow truck must have been the second diversion Max had planned, but had no time to congratulate her on her genius. Max was sprinting all the way back to Chloe's car with a speed Chloe had never seen before.

"Max!" she finally cried after they had reached a safe distance. "Max!" she repeated.

"No time. Tamara," she said in between her gasps for breath.

Chloe jumped into the car and started the engine. "Wait! Who's  _AR_?"

Max got into the car but continued to explain. "Private investigator that Tamara uses a lot. If Alex is working for the Prescotts…"

Chloe's eyes widened in realization. "Oh shit."

Max nodded in agreement. "We have to warn her," she said while pulling out her phone. A few button presses later and she was on the line with Tamara Nelson.

"Hello, you've reached the office of Tamara Nelson. How can I help you?" The voice on the other line was pleasant, but this was no time for pleasantries.

"I need to speak with Ms. Nelson, it's urgent."

"I'm sorry, but she's not here right now. May I take a message?" came the same polite voice.

Max cursed to herself. "Do you know where she is?"

"She just went out to dinner. Like I said, I can take-"

Max cut her off. "Who did she go with? And where?"

The polite voice was starting to show a hint of annoyance. "I'm sorry, but who is this? I can't disclose that kind of information."

"This is Max Caulfield, I was helping her on the Nathan Prescott case, remember?  _Just Max_?"

The polite voice was back. "Oh, hello Max! But I'm afraid I still can't-"

"Is she with Alex Rogers? That's all I need to know," Max pleaded.

There was a pause followed by a begrudging, "...Yes."

Max cursed herself again, and Chloe looked over from the driver's side, worried. "Tell her to call me back immediately. Her life is in danger."

There was another pause as the secretary considered Max's words. "Alright. I'll do it. But this had better be really serious because Ms. Nelson looked dressed up to go out like it was her wedding anniversary."

"Thank you," Max ended the phone call.

Chloe looked over with concern written all over her face. "So what do you think Alex is trying to do? Why is he working for the Prescott's?"

"I don't know," she murmured.

Why was Alex working for him? The more Max questioned his motives, the less sense it made to her. A reputable private investigator gone bad? The most obvious motive could be money, but when he practically worked for the state department as a private contractor, how much could he really be lacking? Maybe it was something less obvious, a hidden connection to the Dark Room or maybe even Mark Jefferson himself.

The shrill ringing of Max's phone startled her from her thought, and she picked it up.

It was Tamara's voice on the line. "Max? What's going on?"

"Are you alone?" Max asked.

"Yeah, I just told him I had to use the bathroom. What's all this about Alex? My secretary called and she said it was urgent."

"Tamara, Alex gave one of the Blackwell teachers a bug. He's the reason we've been behind in this investigation. He's feeding information to the Prescott's!"

"Whoa whoa, slow down. Alex? Alexander Rogers? How do you know?"

"I broke into Richard Gale's house-"

"What!?" Tamara exclaimed on the other line.

"Just listen! I was at his house and I found a box of Mark Jefferson's stuff. Inside was an envelope and a note telling him to plant a receiver in Blackwell for $4000. Earlier today I saw him go into the computer lab and take it out. That means that whoever hired him is onto us."

"Jesus...look Max, I don't think it's a good idea to discuss this right now. I'll meet you at my office in 20 minutes."

Max stopped her. "No, not there! For all we know, your office might be bugged. We have to talk in the open. The junkyard."

"You better be right about this, Max. I was having a really nice dinner."

Tamara hung up, leaving Max to prepare herself mentally. But before her mind could squeeze in as much as a single thought, Chloe interrupted her. "What now?"

"We're going to the junkyard. But after you drop me off, take the receiver and get it to Warren. He'll know what to do with it."

Chloe sounded almost offended. "Are you asking me to leave you?"

"Chloe, you can't be seen! More than that, if something happens to me, you need to take everything we've learned and use it to nail the Prescott's. This is bigger than either of us."

"If something happens to you..." she began.

"I'll be fine," Max finished. "Now drive."

Though lacking in conversation, the rest of the drive was filled with the gentle pour of the rain. It was just a meeting with Tamara, nothing more. Granted, it was to take place at night in an unlit junkyard far away from view of the public, but it was still only a meeting. But for some reason, this filled Max with dread. Maybe it was the thought of the threat being so close to home, or the sickly anticipation of almost discovering the truth. Either way, Max couldn't help but worry that Alex would pop up from behind a rusty car to provide a cheap jump scare for her psychological thriller of a life. The thought was ludicrous, yet she dreaded this all the same.

As they approached the junkyard lot the car began to slow to a halt, but not before Chloe reached over and grabbed Max's face without warning, guiding her lips to her own. Max eyes were still wide open in shock, but they quickly closed as she sank deeper into the kiss. When they parted Chloe's eyes were filled with dread and longing that matched Max's own. She got out and wrapped her jacket around herself as she crunched her feet on the wet gravel.

"I love you," came the voice in the car.

Max looked back, with a hand still on the door. "I love you too."

She shut the door and almost jumped at the loud slam of the door that provided a strange finality to what she was about to do.  _This is where I tell Tamara what I know. This is where she tells me how to win._  And as the battered truck drove off to the beat of the rain, Max thought to herself,  _and this is where I save Chloe._

...

The wind around Max whistled through the trees as the rain followed its current. The cold enveloped her, reminding her that she was completely alone and in the open. But it was better this way. If Alex was the one who set up the bug, there's no telling where was safe and where wasn't. Hell, he could've had Tamara's office bugged from the start. The dark and cold with the junkyard backdrop seemed a touch melodramatic, but it was necessary to avoid surveillance.

Max shivered a bit, both from the cold and from anticipation. She was so close to finding out who was behind her shooting and by extension, saving Chloe and Arcadia Bay. That part still confused her. The voice in her head had inextricably tied together solving this mystery and saving the Oregon coast. One could not happen without the other, even though it seemed as if her supernatural abilities were the sole cause of the storm.  _Everything happens for a reason_. That much, she remembered.

Growing impatient and colder by the minute, Max pulled out her phone to check the time. Tamara had said to meet in 20 minutes, but it was now looking closer to 40.

Finally, there was a flash of light from the road followed by the sound of rubber crunching on gravel. Max walked to the front area of the junkyard to see Tamara's silver sedan pull up. Max held a hand to her eyes to shield herself from the rain and bright headlights when she heard her phone's text alert go off. With one hand still up, she retrieved her phone with her other hand. It was from Warren. Through beads of water that instantly appeared on her screen, she read the message that made her heart stop.

**Warren: Tamara bought the bug. It's a trap. Run.**

As soon as Max finished reading the message, she heard the distinctive click of a hammer being pulled back. Max was caught in the headlights of the car, frozen at the sound of the gun. Through the intense light, Max could make out Tamara's silhouette standing in front of her car, a single hand raised carrying a gun.

"I warned you to back off the case, Max," Tamara called above the pitter patter of rain.

"You were working for the Prescott's the whole time," Max realized with a growl.

"Longer than you know. But this is my last job."

"Then why don't you just kill me and be done with it?" Max challenged boldly.

Suddenly Max's phone began to ring. Max glanced at her hand, but Tamara raised the gun further, dissuading her. Tamara shook her head, pointing to the floor for Max to comply. Max sighed as she slowly bent down, one hand still raised as the other gently lay her phone on the wet ground.

Tamara snorted. "You're smarter than this, Max. I told you, if he wanted you dead, you'd be dead. I'm not here to kill you."

"Is that why you brought the gun?" Max asked, gesturing to her weapon.

There was the familiar rumble of a truck in the not so far off distance that caused Max to divert her gaze. Tamara didn't seem to notice and continued to hold Max at bay with her gun.

With a vicious roar, a truck engine revved as it lept over a pile of recycled junk and barreled straight towards Tamara. She shrieked and dove out of the way of the truck, feeling around the ground for her dropped pistol. Tamara quickly retrieved it and got back on her feet, unsure of whether to aim the gun at Max or at the unidentified newcomer. The truck turned on a dime and skidded to a halt, nearly tipping over on its side before the door swung open and the driver jumped out.

"Get the fuck away from her or I swear to God, I'll blow your  _fucking_  brains out!" screamed the voice that filled Max with confidence and relief.

Max's blue haired angel approached Tamara menacingly, holding out David's Smith and Wesson revolver, finger resting dangerously close to the trigger. Chloe's eyes burned with a fire never before seen by Max, and her whole body was tense and ready to snap at a moment's notice. Though it was dark, Max could see Tamara's jaw drop to the ground in utter shock at the sight of Chloe. Max went slowly to Chloe's side, where she could hear her taking erratic breaths. Tamara glanced between the blue haired girls, deciding to keep her gun pointed on Chloe, the one with the weapon.

"Y-you're...Chloe Price," Tamara stammered. "But...you're dead!"

Chloe growled as she clicked back the hammer, "Yeah, but I came back. Let's see if you can do the same."

"No!" Max exclaimed next to her.

Chloe kept her gun and body faced towards Tamara, but tilted her head towards Max at her protest. "Max, she's a traitor! She's been working for Sean Prescott this whole time."

"I know what she is, but this isn't the right way. We turn her in as proof against the Prescott's."

"If you turn me in, I'll never make it out alive," Tamara warned.

Max's voice was eerily calm. "I know."

Max's calmness worried Tamara, who was glancing frantically between the two. "Max, just... tell Chloe to the gun down. I need you to trust me."

"Why the hell should we trust you?" Chloe retorted.

"You shouldn't. But I'm the only person who can bring down Sean Prescott."

"Yeah? How's that?" Max questioned.

Tamara looked around her nervously, shaking her head.

"Talk," Chloe commanded sternly, moving her finger off the trigger guard.

Tamara continued to glance around them and sighed. "Not right here. Not here," she whispered.

She cautiously lowered her pistol to about chest level, taking the heat off of Chloe. Max nodded to Chloe, who understood and slowly lowered her gun as well.

Suddenly Tamara lifted her pistol once more, this time with sights trained on Max instead of Chloe. Chloe instantly followed, putting Tamara's chest right between the iron sights on her revolver.

"No!" Chloe burst out. "Drop the fucking gun!"

"Max, don't move," Tamara said slowly.

Max instinctively had her hands slightly raised, and she began to backpedal slowly, eyes darting back and forth between Chloe and Tamara.

Tamara's finger moved to the trigger, while Chloe's was already halfway through the draw weight. One more ounce of pull would send a round of .357 magnum through Tamara's chest where it would exit out her back. The rain poured around them, drenching both parties and their weapons. Water dripped down off the barrel of Chloe's gun, where some landed on the floor and some ran down her arm to soak her sleeve. Through all of it, her arm was steady and her aim unmoved. Max could hear her ragged breathing calm to a slow and steady rhythm that almost matched her own heart beat.

Chloe pulled the trigger first but the two guns went off simultaneously.


	10. The Lighthouse

**A/N: Over 2 months later and I have finally finished the finale of Blue Skies. Longest chapter (18k) and a bittersweet end to my first LiS fic. Thank you to all who have kept up with this story! It's been immensely fun to research for and write this story. Though this is the final chapter, I know that I'll continue to have the Life is Strange soundtrack on constant repeat whenever I need to work or study. Without further ado, here's the final chapter of Blue Skies. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 10 -** **The Lighthouse**

* * *

Max squeezed her eyes closed at the boom of the two gunshots, ears ringing and body braced for impact. She braced herself so much so, that she barely noticed the cry of pain from behind her. Unwilling to open her eyes, she stayed tense and still, until she was tackled to the ground from her side.

Fearing for her life, she fought back, pushing and clawing against the unseen force. The figure on top of her easily overpowered her, pinning her arms to her sides. Beads of moisture flicked onto her face, like someone raking fingernails down her cheek.

"Max! Jesus, it's me! Stay down!" came the voice that finally sliced through the fog in her mind. Max peeked open her eyes to see Chloe bent over her, strands of wet blue hair tickling her face. Max's eyes were wide with fear as her gaze darted around. She looked over on her side and to her horror saw Tamara face-down in the gravel, arm outstretched futilely for a pistol that was permanently out of grasp. Chloe quickly grabbed the sides of her face and forced Max to respond to her.

"Hey! Snap out of it! We're under attack!"

Max was about to scramble to her feet but Chloe kept a firm grasp on her shoulder, forcing her down.

"No, no, no. You need to stay down," she shushed as she got into a kneeling position. She then grabbed Max under her arms and began to drag her to cover behind a pile of junk. Max broke out of her daze and sat crouched next to Chloe, who was checking the bullets in her revolver.

"Shit! I'm almost out. What do we do?" she whispered to herself as she surveyed her surroundings. Eyeing Tamara's pistol on the floor, she took a peek from behind cover. An idea began to form in her mind.

"Alright Max, here's the plan. We're low on firepower but we're high on girlpower. You take Tamara's pistol and stay here. When I break cover for those trees on the right, take him out."

"And if I miss?" Max asked feebly.

Chloe snorted. "Then we're both fucked."

Max fought to keep her anxiety under control as she felt her racing heart send blood coursing through her veins. She grabbed Tamara's pistol and was slightly overwhelmed by its relative complexity compared to Chloe's simple revolver. There was a switch on top of the grip with a red color marking.  _Was the red supposed to be showing? Hidden? Do I have to pull back on the gun like I've seen in the movies?_

She had little time to ponder the weapon's usage when Chloe began a mad dash to the tree line she had pointed at earlier. Gunshots ensued, and Chloe fired back recklessly with a single hand pointed backwards. She was yelling at Max to start shooting but was drowned out by rain and the gunshots. Max still understood though, and broke cover to begin shooting at the gunman.

The pistol in her hand clicked and didn't fire. For the next most terrifying moments of her life, she could see the gunman's face as he looked down the barrel of his gun and continued firing at the retreating Chloe. She was sure that he would see her and begin shooting at her, but his gaze was still fixed on Chloe. She squeezed the trigger again but only came up with another click.

Crouching from behind cover, Chloe wailed over the storm, "Come on! What are you waiting for?"

Instantly the gunman knew he had been flanked and turned around to face doe-eyed Max. With the copious amounts of adrenaline pumping throughout her body, everything moved in slow motion. Her fingers, already frozen by the icy rain, felt like they were dipped in molasses as she fumbled to disengage the safety on the left side of the gun. She lifted the weapon of seemingly infinite weight and pulled back on the trigger. Her finger moved the trigger back further and further but to no end. Finally it stopped moving and clicked. A single bullet expelled out of the gun and went straight for the gunman's chest.

He collapsed instantly.

A searing pain in her side caused her to cry out in agony and drop to her knees. Chloe was at her side in an instant, having witnessed the whole exchange of gunfire.

"Max! Are you okay?"

Max looked down at her side and was easily able to point out the source of her pain. A splotch of dark red had seeped through her shirt spreading out from a shallow wound that was its epicenter. She lifted up her shirt but couldn't see what the injury was caused by.  _A bullet?_  was her first thought. But the injury seemed too small to be caused by a bullet fired from a large handgun.  _Shrapnel, then?_

"Can you walk?" Chloe asked as she pulled Max to her feet. Max nodded, but grimaced in pain. She kept her hand over her side, hoping that the bleeding would eventually stop itself. Without the gunfire and the shouting, the night was eerily still save for the howl of the wind. But in the darkness, even the wind seemed to be muffled. The rain poured around them and rinsed her hands of her own blood.

"Max…" came a weak whisper.

Max spun around, realizing it was Tamara. In all the commotion, she had managed to prop herself up against a scrapped car, holding a hand to her chest. Blood poured out from between her fingers, leaving her skin pale and her expression grim. Dirt streaked her face as tendrils of hair clung to her face as if they knew their life would soon be sucked out from them. Max went to her.

Gulping down air and summoning her strength, Tamara managed to hiss the name, "Randall…Stephens…"

"Randall Stephens?" Chloe repeated.

She looked at Max. "They didn't come for you…they came for…me," Tamara said between fits of coughing. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Max asked.

Tamara shook her head. "Sean knows…he knows. Randall Stephens can take him down," she mumbled in a daze.

"Who is he?" Max pressed.

"Not a person," she corrected. Her mouth moved to In a softer voice, she added, "You're so brave, Max. I think I…admire that about you."

Her eyes closed and her head slumped to her chest. Chloe sank to her knees in front of her as her gun clattered out of her hand. Her lifeless expression mimicked Tamara's.

"I killed her," she stated simply. "I killed her," she repeated. She looked down at her right hand, now devoid of the gun but still imbued with her own powers. Her fingers were shaking but she stretched out her hand in front of her.

"Chloe…" Max warned.

Chloe cut her off with a pained glance. "Max, please. For me. You have to do it."

"No, I…I can't!" Max cried as she backed away slowly.

"Please!" Chloe begged, "You have to rewind this."

Max walked away with her hands on her head. "If I rewind, it could trigger the storm!"

Chloe stretched her arms out to the sky. "Look around you! The storm is already here. And if you're going to save both me and the town, there's a good chance your powers aren't responsible for the storm. Please, Max, I can't…I can't become a murderer."

Max looked upon Tamara's lifeless body and Chloe's kneeling figure. Her eyes were steeped in remorse as they pleaded with Max on their own accord. Rain poured and thunder boomed around them. Chloe was right: the storm was already here.

Max raised her hand and dug deep inside herself, imagining the howling wind to be still and reverse its flow. Slowly but surely, the world around her spun about in a blur, bringing herself back to the point where Tamara and Chloe were holding each other at gunpoint. Max's head swam and she stopped her Rewind before she passed out completely. She shuddered as she tried to shake the fog from her mind.

"Drop the fucking gun!" Chloe roared next to Max.

"Wait!" Max said with her hands up. She stepped in front of Chloe's gun and placed a hand over the barrel. Chloe was alarmed and lowered the gun.

"What the hell-"

"I used my rewind!" Max blurted out. This shocked Chloe, who stammered in response.

"W-why?"

Without answering her, Max faced Tamara. "I know you brought the two hitmen here. You're not trying to kill me, you're trying to use them as leverage against Sean Prescott."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't have time to explain! But you have to tell me everything right now, or they're going to come and they're going to kill us."

"I…just follow me."

With a great deal of effort she pocketed her gun, glancing back at Chloe to see if she would do the same. When Chloe still held her weapon out in front of her, Tamara ignored her. Max followed her back to the car, surprised when Tamara gave her the keys.

"They're not after you, they're after me. When they come for me, hit the highbeams and start honking the horn. Anything that distracts them. I'll take over from there."

"Just like that?" Max asked as Tamara opened the door.

"Well if everything goes  _just like that_ , I expect you to tell me what she's doing here," Tamara said as she pointed at Chloe. "Now get in the car. And keep your heads down."

Chloe looked back at Max with suspicion, but grudgingly followed when Max got in the car. Chloe took a seat in the back so that she could hide behind the front seat, while Max sat behind the wheel, ready to turn the headlights on. Throughout this whole time, Tamara remained inordinately cool and collected. She went to the front of the car and had her hands in the pockets of her dark long overcoat.

"Max!" Chloe hissed from the back, "You've gotta tell me what's going on. Why did you use your Rewind?"

Max held a finger to her lips, silencing her. Chloe rolled her eyes and grunted.

Out of the darkness came two figures, this time without all guns blazing. Now that she could see their faces more clearly, Max's suspicions were confirmed when she saw that they were the same ones who had attacked her after her visit to the county prison. They approached Tamara slowly, careful to keep their distance. Max could see their mouths moving in conversation but was unable to discern what they were saying. By the hitmen's body posture, she could tell that one of them wasn't paying as much attention to the actual conversation, rather he was staying back and keeping watch. The one talking to Tamara was becoming increasingly aggressive, swaying forward and taking closer steps to Tamara, who was smartly but slowly backing towards the car, making sure her backside was faced at the headlights. She still kept her hands in her pockets and her head up high, even with the hitman approaching her.

Max's moment came finally when Tamara suddenly shielded her face and shouted "Go!" to no one in particular. Max flipped on the highbeams and began hammering the horn, causing the hitman to cover his eyes and back away in shock. Tamara jumped up and held him in a headlock, pressing a small box to his neck. Electric blue arcs emanated from the device and Max realized it was a taser. He spazzed out for a few moments before going limp. The second hitman had his gun out on Tamara but she kept her grip steady on the first hitman, using him as a human shield while drawing another taser gun from her belt. The second hitman convulsed from the 50,000 volts delivered from the gun, dropping his weapon as his arms flailed about. He landed face-down in the dirt.

As Max and Chloe got out of the car, Tamara dropped the hitman in her headlock and rolled him onto his front, securing his wrists behind his back with zip ties. She did this with the other one as well, looking expectantly at the pair standing by the car.

"A little help?"

Chloe spoke up first. "What do you want us to do?"

Tamara's eyebrows raised. "The dead girl speaks." Chloe rolled her eyes yet again, but Tamara dragged the second hitman by the shirt towards the car. "Throw him in the trunk."

As Max and Chloe hoisted the heavy body into the trunk, Chloe mouthed the question, "Rewind?" to which Max shook her head. Tamara moved around the back of the car and closed the trunk, standing in between the two girls. Her gaze bore into Chloe as if staring at the formerly deceased girl would cause her to vanish in a puff of smoke. When she didn't, Tamara began to get in the car.

"Max, you're with me. I want to talk to you, alone. Chloe, follow my car."

Instead of going to the passenger's side, Max went around to where Tamara was seated and held the door open. "Whoa, hold on. Anything you have to say to me you can say to both of us."

"And you trust her?" Tamara asked with suspicion.

"Trust her?" Max balked. "Of course I trust her! Why the hell wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, maybe because she's supposed to be dead?" she returned matter-of-factly.

Chloe laughed cynically, drawing the attention of both Tamara and Max. "God, you have trust issues!" she burst out. "You bug Max's dorm, you send assassins after her, you drag us into a firefight with more assassins, and you think that I'm the one who isn't trustworthy? Give me a break, for fuck's sake."

"I'm not going anywhere without her," Max said resolutely.

Tamara ground her teeth as she relented. Her voice was tense and strained. "You get in Chloe's car, you follow me to the location, and I'll tell you everything. But I want answers."

Max nodded as Tamara turned the ignition and slammed the door. The two got into Chloe's truck and followed Tamara into the night.

After a short silence wherein Chloe repeatedly made glances at Max expecting her to say something, Chloe spoke up. "You used your Rewind. Why?"

Max wouldn't say anything. She continued her gaze out towards the window watching the rain trace lazy paths down the glass. The thunder outside mixed with the bumps in the road, but to Max, all noise was thunder.

"Max!" Chloe repeated.

Max afforded Chloe a response by returning her stare with a somber one. Chloe was taken aback and her expression softened. "There was a firefight. Tamara was shooting at one of the hitmen who was behind me, but you thought she was shooting at me. So you…" she trailed off, knowing Chloe would put together the rest.

Chloe did. She leaned back in her seat and ran a hand over her face with a heavy sigh. "Was I the one who asked you to Rewind?"

Max nodded, earning another sigh and muttered expletive from Chloe. "What about the storm?" Chloe continued.

"This is the storm," Max gestured around them. "And you had a point. You said that if I was going to save both you and Arcadia Bay, it's possible that my powers don't actually cause the storm."

"So what does, then?" Chloe asked.

The question went unanswered as it hung between them. Neither of them had the knowledge or the confidence to suggest anything.

…

The truck pulled up into the parking lot Tamara had instructed them to go to, and Max already felt uneasy. A large dilapidated warehouse sprang up in front of them, and it looked like no one had done so much as look at it for years. Paint peeled off the walls and the rust on every visible metal surface reared its weathered head. Maybe it was just because of the night and the way the headlights cast shadows that stretched across its surface, but Max wouldn't be surprised if it was haunted in some way. The building looked so dead, it looked like it was used to manufacture tombstones or coffins. Max just hoped that there wasn't one inside with her name already on it.

Chloe put the truck in park but Max grabbed her arm as she reached for the door.

"Randall Stephens," she said.

"What?" Chloe replied confused.

"Before I rewound, Tamara gave us a name. She said that 'Randall Stephens can take him down'. And she said it's not a person."

"So what is he? Or it?" Chloe corrected.

"I don't know. A company? A location? The name to some protected Swiss bank account? It could be anything. But listen, if anything happens to me, find Randall Stephens. I have a feeling that Tamara won't tell us everything there is to know about her plan."

Chloe scoffed. "If anything happens to you, it'll happen to me first. I'm with you in this till the end," Chloe said with a hand on Max's shoulder.

The two got out of the car after noticing Tamara's car already parked out front. Max went up to the car and saw it was empty, but found an interesting trail in the dirt that lead all the way from the trunk of the car to the front door. She assumed that Tamara had moved the assassins inside but was wary of any plan she might be waiting to spring.

Max's thoughts were interrupted by the awful sound of a rusted door squeaking in protest. In the doorway stood Tamara, who beckoned them in wordlessly. Max turned to glance at Chloe as she entered, noticing with some sense of security that Chloe had one hand in her pocket, probably tracing the outline of her gun with her finger. There was palpable tension between the three as they followed Tamara deeper into the warehouse, past poorly lit corridors and weathered access doors.

Max finally broke the silence with a question. "Where are we?"

Tamara glanced back before proceeding. "Safe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chloe called from the back.

Max could have sworn she heard a snort as Tamara replied, "It means we're safe."

She could almost feel Chloe rolling her eyes behind her and threw a warning glance backward to dissuade any rash behavior from the typically rash girl. Chloe huffed audibly but managed to keep her cool.

"Where'd you take the assassins?" Max asked with rousing suspicion.

"I'm letting the twins sweat it out in an interrogation room."

"Twins?" Max repeated.

"Yes, twins. It's convenient to have twins, especially when you're trying to call them out in a lineup. We'll keep them there for a couple hours or so. Time in the dark does wonders."

"I'm sure you'd know," Chloe muttered under her breath.

Tamara pretended not to hear her as she pulled the door open to the next room. But instead of another dark and musty corridor, it opened to an unusually well-kept room that appeared to be a lounge. It was surprisingly well lit. Along the wall sat a coffee maker next to a rack of ceramic mugs, and in the center of the room was a large round conference table with a few chairs around it. Along the opposite wall lay a long futon that looked used but comfortable. Despite all of the amenities, the room was still cold from the rain. Tamara addressed this by going to the space heater in the corner of the room and cranking it to the max. She pulled off her soaking overcoat and hung it next to the heater, then sank into the futon with a contented sigh.

"Make yourselves at home. We're going to be here a while," she said from the comfort of her seat.

"What is this place?" Max asked as she continued looking around the room.

"It's an abandoned warehouse. It's got everything you'd need, from interrogation rooms, to a small first aid center, and this nice little break room. The futon even pulls out into a bed."

"And what do you mean we're going to be here a while?" Chloe asked.

"That storm out there is the worst I've seen in years. It's 9 o'clock and you can't see two feet in front of you. We're not going to drive through that," Tamara stated firmly. From the moment she sat down, Max noticed how she couldn't remove her gaze from Chloe. Tamara seemed permanently interested with the subject, as if analyzing every movement from her body and every word from her mouth. Chloe noticed this leering gaze at once and grinned to herself at Tamara's obvious discomfort. Finally Tamara broke her stare and addressed Max.

"I think some discussion is in order," she ventured.

"You first," Max returned with no effort to conceal her displeasure.

Tamara shook her head with humorless laughter. "My side just got decidedly less interesting as soon as you brought her into the picture. How'd you do it? Fake her death? Switch the bodies?"

"We didn't fake anything. Chloe Price was shot and killed by Nathan Prescott on October 7. The body was hers and the funeral was real."

"Then explain this," Tamara said, gesturing to Chloe like she wasn't there to witness her astonishment.

"You're not going to believe me."

"Whatever you say is going to be more believable than accepting that she came from nowhere."

"Time travel," Max paused and waited with bated breath, trying to gauge Tamara's reaction to this strange revelation. Tamara glanced back and forth between the two girls, waiting for one of them to lose their seriousness and burst out in laughter, admitting that this was all a huge practical joke. When neither girl did so and she saw the seriousness written on both of their faces, she prompted either of them to speak.

"Well, go on! Don't stop there," she prompted.

"She traveled back through time from an alternate universe where I died instead. It brought her back but it's also causing that storm outside."

"Is that how you knew about the twins in the junkyard?"

"I foresaw the shootout and your explanation." Glancing at Chloe, Max added, "And you said you needed information from the twins. So I had to Rewind to save them." Max hoped that Tamara's skepticism at her time travel abilities would distract her from Max's impromptu fib. Chloe relaxed a bit as she realized how Max covered for her.

"I see," Tamara said slowly.

"So do you believe me?"

"Believe? Sure. But accepting time travel itself? I have to admit, I'm still thinking about that one."

"Well save your thinking for later. Right now you're going to give us everything you know. And that includes whatever the hell you're doing with the Prescott's."

"It's a long story. Could take a while."

"Time isn't something I really worry about anymore," Max returned boldly.

Tamara's eyebrows went straight up. "Right then. But you both had better save your snarky comments for the end. And that means you, Miss Price."

Chloe scoffed. "Whatever you say, but just say it."

Tamara took a deep breath as she began. "I worked for the Prescott Foundation for a few years. In the beginning it was mostly legitimate work and it paid well. Then there was this company I was supposed to check out. Small time fishery, didn't look too glitzy. We were getting tips that it was actually a front whose main venture was shipping drugs up and down the West Coast. I lead the investigation, wrote up the papers, and shut them down, thinking about the good we did in busting the baddies."

"But it wasn't a front, was it? It was all real."

"I didn't learn that until later. Turns out we were the baddies and we just shut down a family business and took jobs from a few dozen hardworking people. By the time I realized all this, it was too late for me to get out. I was the one behind everything, and the Foundation would eat me alive if I snitched. It was all downhill from there. I started working for the state while behind my back I was working for the Foundation. But if there's a scale held up by the big hand in the sky, it's not pointing to the good I did. I was stuck with the Foundation, for better or for worse."

"Why now? What changed your mind?"

"Actually, for better or for worse is what changed my mind. I…bugged Alex's office. And I'm not proud of it. But I overheard him talking to my sister about ring sizes and flying my parents out here to Oregon. As a matter of fact, that dinner I was at tonight was supposed to be our 2-year anniversary," she added with disappointment.

Max tried to conceal the surprise in her voice as she concluded, "He was going to propose to you."

"He may not play by the rules all the time, but he does it for the sake of his clients. Me? I'm just plain dirty. I knew I couldn't face him with everything I did if we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. But I also knew this isn't just something I could walk away from. I was in too deep. And that," she paused to point at Chloe, "that is when I read about your murder."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Chloe asked.

"I saw my way out. I knew that if I directed all the blame onto Nathan, Sean would have to silence anyone who went after him."

"That's why you sent me to get Nathan's testimony? To lure out the hitmen?"

"I didn't want to. He was already starting to get suspicious of Jefferson's disappearance and I had to do something to get on his good side, so yes, I bugged your dorm room for him and sent you after Nathan. It was the only way to force his hand."

Max held up a hand. "Hang on, Jefferson's disappearance? I thought he ordered Jefferson's death. Why would he be suspicious of something he ordered? Unless..."

Chloe finished her thought. "Unless he didn't order his death. That means that..."

"You killed him," Max ended in turn.

Tamara's mouth was slightly open as her usually stern expression wavered for a split second. Her eyes flickered between the two girls, and Max was able to guess that her assessment was close, but not exact. What, then? Tamara killing Jefferson in order to force the blame onto Nathan, which in turn forces Sean's hand, made sense.

"But you said  _disappearance_ , not  _death_ ," Max ventured slowly. Color drained from Max's face as she followed her own train of logic. "He's not dead," she whispered in apprehension.

Max watched Chloe's expression with bated breath as she saw her friend's face slowly twist and contort with rage at the revelation that Mark Jefferson was still alive. Her jaw visibly clenched and her nostrils flared slightly as she sucked in angry breaths, struggling to keep steady. She leaned forward off the table suddenly, and Max followed suit, hoping she wouldn't have to hold Chloe back, but being prepared all the same. She supposed she could understand. But she had never seen Chloe this upset before. Tamara tensed in turn, her body language obviously reflecting how threatened she felt by Chloe's increasing rage.

Tamara had her hands out in front of her as a sign of peace. "Hey look, I'm sorry."

"Chloe…" Max warned as Chloe began to approach Tamara.

"You lied," Chloe spat, not halting her approach.

Tamara was backing against the wall now. Chloe continued to corner her, despite Max who was now tugging at her arm.

"Chloe! Come on!" Max pleaded.

"Where is he?" Chloe hissed.

Tamara gulped but didn't respond. Chloe pounded the countertop next to her, rattling several dishes and making Max jump. "Where?" she demanded angrily.

In a low voice Tamara muttered "Here."

No sooner than she said that, Chloe disappeared. Tamara blinked hard and looked around the room, absolutely stunned by what she saw. Chloe Price had simply vanished into the air without a trace. Max too was in shock until the door swung shut and she realized what had happened.

"Where did-?" Tamara began.

"I'll explain later," Max said hurriedly walking toward the door. "Where's Jefferson?"

"You don't think-"

"Where?" Max repeated much more forcefully.

"Follow me," Tamara said as the two left the room.

They passed through winding hallways and rusted doors, both still trying to process what had just happened. Max had an inkling of what Chloe was up to, but she just hoped she was wrong. Finally after opening one door, faint cries of pain could be heard. Not female luckily, but male. It was Jefferson.

"Is she-?" Tamara started.

"Open the door!" Max commanded Tamara.

Tamara turned the handle to the room, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Shit!" she cursed as she continued to rattle the door.

Max went up to the door and began pounding on it with her fists.

"Chloe! Open up!"

There was no response, except for the rhythmic sound of bone meeting flesh, punctuated by grunts and cries of pain. Max could picture the scene through the door; Chloe menacing over Jefferson, swinging her fists through his face with all her might. Though she couldn't blame how Chloe felt at all, she knew it wasn't right, and this was definitely not a healthy expression of her hurt.

"Chloe! Please open the door!" Max cried.

Finally the blows seemed to pause. There were still the muffled groans that reminded her that Jefferson was inside, but at least Chloe had stopped swinging.

"Why did you keep him alive?" shouted Chloe from inside.

Max looked expectantly at Tamara, who was standing there with her arms crossed, as if she had nothing to do with the situation. She took her cue however, and answered.

"I made him a deal," Tamara said in a low voice. "It was the only way I could get him to talk."

"You were gonna let this piece of shit walk free? After everything he's done?" came Chloe's strained voice.

"Chloe, there's a lot of things you don't understand."

"Maybe you're right, but at least I understand that this bastard deserves to rot in prison."

"Look, it's complicated!" Tamara exclaimed, exasperated.

"Then I'll  _uncomplicate_  it for you. You take back your offer or I put a bullet in his good for nothing skull."

"Chloe, wait!" Tamara cried out.

"Take back the offer!" Max urged Tamara.

"What? I can't! I already put everything in place to put him in witness protection. It's legally binding!"

" _One..._ " came the count.

"I don't care what it is! Right now if you don't take it back, Chloe is going to kill him."

"It's not that simple..."

" _Two_..."

"Chloe, I'm sorry, but I can't!"

"Wrong answer."

Max's face lit up. "Wait! The voice! Remember the voice? It told me to get true justice for Jefferson. Killing him isn't true justice. Let him live to face the consequences of his actions. Let him rot in prison, just like you said. Killing him is mercy. Don't let him have any."

There was a painfully long silence where Max was tensed, waiting for the clap of the gunshot that would mean the end of Jefferson. Part of her longed for that sound, painfully even, to punctuate the end of Jefferson's twisted machinations, but she knew it couldn't happen. For whatever reason, the voice in her head demanded that Jefferson receive true justice instead of his life being cut short. Now she understood. Somehow the voice had known Jefferson wasn't really dead, rather having received a deal that traded his sentence for information. She had to right this wrong, for the sake of the voice. She only hoped that Chloe would reach the same conclusion.

After an eternity of waiting, the door swung open to reveal an engaged Chloe struggling to keep her emotions in check. For a lingering moment she glanced back at the lone occupant of the room, as if to claim ownership of her handiwork. Said handiwork consisted of a severely bloodied and bruised Mark Jefferson carelessly propped up against the side wall of the cell. His chest rose and fell slowly, signaling he was still alive but had definitely seen better days.

Continuing, she forcefully pushed past the shoulders of Tamara and Max, who had both taken note of her darkened marred fists. Tamara without looking, grabbed Chloe by the elbow. She spun back around in her tracks, ready to face down whoever dared interfere with her. Tamara stared back, her cold steely gaze matching Chloe's.

"Go cool off," Tamara commanded softly but sternly.

Chloe glanced at Max, expecting the other girl to back her up or at least give a shrug of sympathy, but received neither. She looked disappointed and hurt, which made Max reevaluate who she had just chosen to back here. She wrested her arm out of Tamara's grasp and straightened her jacket before walking away. Once she was out of earshot, Tamara let out a heavy sigh as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Max glared at the woman she had chosen to back. "Now you  _really_  need to start talking."

"No. Not right now. I'll patch up Jefferson. Let's hope he hasn't suffered any permanent brain damage," she added sarcastically. "Go back to the lounge and we can talk once I'm done."

"But Chloe-"

"She's volatile. Anything I say in there is just going to go in one ear and out the other. I just saved the man who killed her best friend. She needs to be alone right now."

"She needs to hear you out."

"What she  _needs_  is to cool off. Now go," Tamara pointed.

Max knew grumbling against Tamara's will wouldn't do her any good, even if it made her feel better to argue. As much as she wanted Chloe to be there to hear everything, Tamara was right. She was far too volatile right now and everything Tamara said would be met with a cynical ear and sarcastic retort. Max grudgingly left for the lounge.

…

About fifteen minutes later Tamara walked through the lounge doorway. All the questions Max had built up and scripted in her head seemed to run about each and every way, losing their places from the logical order Max had originally imagined. She didn't know how to start. Tamara could sense the girl's confusion from a mile away. Concealing a sheepish smirk, she took the carafe from the coffee maker and filled it at the nearby sink. She went back to the coffee maker and poured the water into the reservoir with a hollow splashing sound. Under the counter there was a small pull-out drawer where she retrieved the grounds and filter. Filter into machine, grounds into filter. Press the button and  _voila_.

Though Max knew she was only making coffee, watching her was increasingly irritating. The way Tamara moved about and meticulously measured the water and doled out the grounds was just so vexingly casual. It was as if the whole thing was a facade to prove to Max that she was an ordinary lawyer who liked her coffee with two sugar, no cream. Surely she must be stalling for time, trying her hardest to avoid the difficult conversation about to take place. If not stalling, maybe she was putting Max at ease so that she could pull a tranquilizer gun from the coffee drawer and knock out Max while Chloe was gone.

While waiting for the pot to fill, Tamara went to the cupboard and retrieved two plain white mugs. Max's eyebrows raised as she realized the second one was for her. The ceramic mugs clinked on the counter as Tamara turned off the coffee maker. Max could hear the liquid slosh around in the mugs and the mixing spoon scrape along the sides. The rich earthy smell of the coffee was deliciously enticing, especially when the damp and cold had seeped into Max's bones.

"How do you take your coffee?" Tamara asked without looking up from stirring her cup.

The simple question caught Max off guard, as she was still in her 'interrogation' mode. Hoping to not sound too abrasive, she replied, "Cream and sugar."

Tamara approached Max's table casually, holding out two cups of coffee. Max reached out her hands gratefully and took the steaming mug between her cold fingers. Tamara settled in opposite the table from her, blowing into her mug before taking a sip. Max was about to follow suit, but paused.

"This isn't poisoned, is it?" she asked cynically, but half serious.

Tamara's expression didn't change a bit. "Of course it is. Now be a dear and deliver that to Mark Jefferson so that we can kill the psycho motherfucker."

Max smirked and took a sip of the hot liquid, wincing as it burned down her throat and warned her insides. She relished the sensation of warmth and was glad to see movement return to her previously frozen fingers. Across from her, Tamara placed her mug back onto the table and sighed with folded hands in front of her. Max followed and returned her mug to the table.

"Look Max, I just want to get something out of the way really fast, 'kay? I don't want you to think that my decision to keep Jefferson alive in any way means that I sympathize with him. I don't. I think that he's a demented son of a bitch who deserves no less than to be strung up by his balls and left in the desert for the vultures to pick his eyes out. And if he was the only bad person I knew, I would be the one stringing him up. But he's not the only bad person I know."

"You're saying that Sean is so much worse than Jefferson that Jefferson should get to go free," Max concluded with narrowed eyes.

Tamara shot a glare at Max. "You know that's not what I meant. And he's not going free. The deal was 5 years in a private prison with the possibility of parole in 3."

"Three years? He'll be on the streets before I'm even done with college, is that what you're telling me?"

"There's a lot you don't understand!"

"Then explain it to me!"

"Sean Prescott is the king of Arcadia Bay. No one can touch him, not the police, not the state, no one. He will throw money at anything and everything that either helps the family name, or expands his empire. Mobs, hitmen, corrupt accounting firms, you name it. He knew about Jefferson and his manipulation of Nathan, but instead of risking family defamation he built a Dark Room and told the principal to keep quiet. I mean, do you know what kind of person you have to be to do that? His son is off somewhere drugging girls and taking creepy pictures, but instead of stopping him he says, 'Hey, son, here's a state-of-the-art bomb shelter so you won't get caught.' Can you imagine the things he'll do when the stakes are that much higher? What's worse? Jefferson, or the one covering up a dozen Jefferson's?"

"That's a long way of saying you compromised."

"I didn't want to but yes, you can say that I compromised."

Max clicked her tongue. "Hell of a compromise. If you had Jefferson, what did you need me for?"

"Isolating Nathan to take the fall was just the setup. You were the catalyst that was supposed to force Sean's hand."

"Are you saying I was bait?"

Tamara couldn't hold eye contact out of pure shame. Her head sank low as she stared into her now empty mug. She looked up somberly and nodded her head.

"Jesus..." Max muttered as she leaned back with a hand in her hair. "So when you sent me to interrogate Nathan..."

"You don't know what kind of person he is or how much power he has. If I didn't send you to Nathan, he was going to kill you anyway. I thought it would at least look better for the press if you died a martyr for justice."

"For the press? I don't give a shit about the press or how it would look against Sean and his stupid Foundation. You might as well have killed me yourself."

"But you didn't die! As much as it disgusts me to think that your life was in his hands, he let you live. He could've killed you any time in the week you were in the hospital. So yes, I sent you to die, but I regretted it every second afterward. That's why I kicked you off the case when you came back to me."

"And yet the assassins were still after me! Why?"

"They're not after you, they were in the junkyard for me. Now if Chloe hadn't shown up and scared the bejesus out of me, I would have had the situation under control. I never intended for you to be caught in the crossfire like that. If all had gone according to plan, you would've found me in the junkyard with both of them already in custody."

Max shook her head in disgust. "So you used me to lure out the assassins, and when that didn't work, you used yourself. Both instances were to get the twins. Why do you need them?"

"The twins have access to the shell account that processes all of the Foundation's illegal dealings. I can use them to get to the account and expose Sean."

_The_ _account._

"It's Shawshank!" Max gasped in realization.

Tamara's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"The Shawshank Redemption! Andy Dufresne processes the laundered money for the Warden through an account belonging to the made up person, Randall Stephens. That's the account you're looking for. It's Randall Stephens."

Tamara's face suddenly darkened. Her eyes narrowed in on Max and her grip on her mug got a little tighter. "How the hell do you know that name?"

"W-what?" Max stammered in confusion.

"I said, how did you find out about the account?"

"I didn't! You told me before I used my time travel powers."

"Under what circumstances?" Tamara pressed.

"You were dying! You got hit in the firefight. That's why I rewound, okay? To save your life."

Tamara's mouth opened slightly as she searched for words, but came up with nothing. Max continued, "Your last words to me were 'Randall Stephens can take him down.' Were you lying?"

Tamara stammered, "I...no, I wasn't lying. But I can't just turn in the account. The account has connections to me and everything I did for the Foundation. I'm trying to go clean here, not go down with the ship. I have to use the twins to get access to the account and make sure I don't show up on the ledger."

After hearing everything Tamara said, a humorless grin spread across Max's face. It was the kind of grin that a person has when they know they've fucked up, usually royally. She laughed to herself, much to Tamara's surprise. "I'm such an idiot. This whole plan is so complicated and full of bullshit, but when you step back, it's so simple. You'll do anything to go free."

"I've sacrificed-"

Max stood aghast. "You've sacrificed? Sacrificed what, exactly? No, all you do is push blame. You blame your corruption on your circumstances. You cut a psychopath a deal and call it compromise. You're nothing but a goddamn coward!"

Max got up abruptly and stormed to the door. Tamara didn't attempt to follow. Max's ringtone halted her in her tracks and she groaned in annoyance. She was leaving the room to make a point to Tamara, not to be interrupted by some phone call. She went to take the call in the hallway.

Her mood shifted immediately as she saw it was Chloe who was calling her. She answered.

"Chloe?"

There was a gentle rumble in the background, like Chloe was near some heavy machinery. "Max, you have to promise me something," she began abruptly.

Max frowned. "Uh, tell me what it is first," she said, taken aback.

"Promise me you won't try to stop me," Chloe said. There was a tension in her voice that bothered Max.

Max asked worriedly, "Stop you from doing what? And where are you?"

"I'm going after Sean on my own."

"You're  _what_?!" Max replied in horror.

"I can't just sit here while Tamara is busy covering her own ass. I have to do something."

"Chloe, wait-"

And then the line clicked. Max ran to the front of the warehouse and pushed open the heavy door with some effort and stepped outside. Chloe's truck was gone.

Max raced back into the lounge where Tamara sat with her coffee, her position unchanged. She looked up at Max, puzzled.

"Chloe. She's gone," Max blurted out.

"What?" she asked after taking a moment to think.

"She just called me. She's going after Sean on her own."

"Dammit…" Tamara hissed as she rose from her seat. "If Chloe kills him or does something stupid that gets him off the hook, we'll have both lost everything. I'm not willing to let that happen. Come on, we have to stop her."

* * *

In true grandiose fashion, the Prescott house sat at the top of a large hill protected by a gate. The driveway twisted and turned through the hill, leading up to the house that was more of a mansion than a house. Faced with its enormity, Chloe couldn't help but think that she was here to confront the house itself, instead of Sean Prescott. She parked at the base of the hill but didn't leave the truck.

Her heart pounded out of her chest as she sucked in air to calm herself. She leaned her head back and ran her palms over her face, exhaling.

"The fuck are you doing here, Chloe?" she muttered to herself.

She looked at her company in the passenger's seat: David's loaded Smith and Wesson .357 revolver that was pretty much on permanent loan, a flashlight she had dug up from a toolbox in the garage, her set of lock picks that were on permanent loan from Frank, and a black strip of cloth she tied into a mask. She took the gun in her hand and popped out the cylinder, checking to see that the chambers were all filled. With a flick of her palm it spun into place, clicking a few times before it stopped. The weapon was stuffed into her jeans and covered with her shirt as she jumped out of the car to cross to the other side. The lock picks went into her back pocket while she tied the mask around the lower half of her face. The flashlight she kept in her hand as she shut the door, the only loud sound on the whole block.

The gate at the front wasn't manned, but it no doubt had security cameras looking over it. She had to find another way in. A tree with a low hanging branch that extended over the fence presented itself a little further down the street. She managed to climb up its branches and step onto the fence. She looked down from her precarious balance, slowly lowering herself to jump down from the fence. She braced herself and absorbed as much of the impact as she could, surprised by the height from which she jumped. It was dark, and the lack of lighting was messing with her depth perception. As she looked up from the inside of the fence, she realized she wouldn't be able to jump out this way. She would have to find another way out. But she would have to cross that bridge when she got to it. The main objective was inside, not getting out.

There was no cover across the vast green, and only darkness would help her. Every step she took closer to the house was filled with anxiety. Each one could have been her last if she was caught by anyone who happened to be looking toward the lawn by the front gate. As she got to one of the side doors, she looked around to make sure there weren't any security cameras. Satisfied that there were none, she went to work on the door.

After a few minutes she had successfully picked the lock. Now came the tricky part. She knew that as soon as she stepped inside the alarm would go off. Luckily for her, she was no ordinary burglar. She knew she could just run inside and rewind to before the alarm went off. The problem was whether or not she could rewind, or even should. Max had just rewound in the junkyard to save Tamara, and she had frozen time in her fit of rage against Jefferson. But at what cost? The storm had raged on for about 4 hours now without any sign of stopping. Winds had picked up and the streetlights were already swaying dangerously above the roads. Had the use of their powers accelerated the storm that wasn't supposed to come until Saturday?

Doubt crept into her mind as she considered the consequences of her actions. Max had told her that whatever she was going to do was going to be the right decision, but how could she know for sure? She wished Max could be here with her right now, telling her what to do. As the first one with powers, she always seemed to know what to do. Willpower and moral boundaries separated them from each other. Chloe was doing what had to be done while Max only wanted to do what should be done. They had always balanced each other out nicely, but now she was on her own. They both were.

Chloe kicked in the door and the alarm went off shrilly as expected. She stretched out her hand and rewound time, feeling woozy as she did so. She could see a silhouette of the door shut and she released her powers. The smell of iron filled her nostrils as blood trickled down to her lip. She wiped it away casually and headed through the house.

Approaching the bedroom, she was cautious to avoid the center of the hallway, where floorboards could creak. Instead, she stayed close to the wall, minimizing the sound she made. Finally at the doorway to the bedroom, she took a deep breath and kicked the door in. Stepping inside she quickly rewound time to where the door was still in place, having effectively walked through the wall.

Sean Prescott lay there in bed next to his wife. He looked strangely peaceful, not menacing as Chloe expected, nor was his face smug and proud in its resting state. The scene almost made her remember he was human. But the gun in her hand reminded her what she was here to do.

She pressed the gun to his cheek but kept a hand on his mouth to quiet any unsuppressed screams. He groaned awake slowly but his eyes shot open frantically as he realized what was happening to him. Chloe shushed him by putting the gun to her lips and pointing at Sean's wife right next to him. Sean shook his head slowly and quieted down, understanding the threat. Chloe left a note on his bedside table and froze time long enough for her to disappear, just for effect. What Sean should have seen was a girl threatening him with a gun and then promptly disappearing. She hoped it would have been enough to prevent him from crying out.

As she heard the rustling of bedsheets from standing outside the bedroom, she heard Sean's wife groggily get up as well. She held the gun out and her hand as well, ready to rewind.

"I'm just getting water," came Sean's voice to his wife.

Chloe quickly headed downstairs toward the kitchen, which she had indicated on the note. Her gun was still raised and pointed at the base of the stairs, ready for Sean. A few footsteps later, and he appeared.

Sean had his hands up as he slowly approached Chloe. "If you want money, my wallet is on my bedroom dresser-"

He was quickly cut off when she brought the handle of her gun across his face with a sharp smack. He grunted as he reeled from the blow, stumbling face first into the wall. Chloe pressed the gun into the small of his back, throwing an arm bar into his neck to keep him there. He stopped struggling but she drove her elbow between his shoulder blades just to spite him. Through gritted teeth she hissed inches from behind his ear, "I don't want money."

Sean's breaths came in gasps as his facade of strength began to fall. "Then what do you want from me?" he asked through strained breaths.

Chloe took the gun and shoved it at an upward angle into his side, twisting as Sean pushed back against her. With her other hand she grabbed a fistful of hair and slammed his head into the wall until a small but steady trickle of blood poured from his nose and down his chin. She returned her arm bar to his neck and forced his face deeper into the wall, almost grinning at the sight of the dark red smudges that appeared on the stark white wall.

"The Dark Room. Your son Nathan. Mark Jefferson. How much did you know?"

"Who are you and why do you care?" he returned defiantly.

"Wrong answer."

She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face her. He received no rest however, as Chloe repeatedly punched him in the face, causing blood to come out of both nostrils and a busted lip to form. Holding the barrel of the gun to his neck, she pulled down her mask. Immediately a wave of recognition swept over Sean's face and was reflected by the rest of his body language as he tensed even more. His bloody mouth opened as if to say something but no words formed.

Chloe sneered. "You know who I am, don't you? Go on, tell me."

"You're... you..."

Chloe twisted the gun into Sean's neck, causing him to shrink into himself even more. "Say my name," she hissed venomously.

"Chloe Price."

"Attaboy," she said with an evil grin.

"But you... you're dead..." he mumbled in a terrified whisper.

"Really?" Chloe asked in mock surprise. She drew back and threw a vicious swing to his ribs, causing him to double over and cry out. She lifted him up by his jaw and pressed the gun into his neck. "I feel pretty alive to me. You on the other hand... you look like you're the dead one."

Feigning confidence, Sean countered, "If that's the case, why don't you just get on with it and kill me?"

Chloe shook her head and frowned. "You know why you can say stuff like that? It's because you think I'm scared of getting caught. But take a look from where I'm standing. I'm a fucking ghost. My body is buried 6 feet under in Arcadia Bay Cemetery. Hell, I could bash your skull open on my own fucking tombstone if I really wanted to. I could beat you within an inch of your life and walk away with nothing but bruises on my hands. You can't pin a murder on a dead person. Now, if you're still willing to bet I won't kill you after everything I said, then ask me to kill you, and it will be my genuine pleasure to call your bluff."

Sean's gaze bored into Chloe's soul and found nothing but hate and sheer will. This girl was truly ready to kill him, and she likely wasn't kidding when she said she could get away with it. She was right after all; she was a real life bona fide ghost, and the police would be chasing their tails for years if they discovered the fingerprints of a dead girl on the murder weapon.

In a low and grumbling drawl, he asked, "What do you want to know?"

"How much did you know about Nathan and Mark Jefferson's business together?"

"Enough."

"How much is enough?"

"My son is a screw up. And that creep Jefferson did nothing to fix that."

"His name is Nathan Prescott, not Nathan Jefferson. He's your son. If there was anyone who was going to get him help, it was you."

"I helped him as much as I could have."

"Bullshit! I talked to Dr. Collins and he told me how you forced him into writing a prescription that he knew wasn't going to do anything. Raymond Wells already gave you up. He showed us your correspondence with him and how you tried to cover up Nathan's sickness with more medication."

"What do you think you have on me? A handful of bad decisions and an unfortunately possessed son? It's by no means grounds for an arrest, and hardly reason to kill me, don't you think?"

"You built the Dark Room. You gave Nathan access. You let Jefferson corrupt him and take advantage of his resources. Their whole operation was funded by you. What do I have on you? I have the ruined lives of 17 innocent girls, all who have faced unspeakable terrors from the Dark Room that you built."

"I only built this so-called 'Dark Room' because of the terrible storms we faced 5 years ago. It was never my intention to allow Nathan to use it for his twisted fantasies."

"Then why was the lock on the bunker door brand new? Why was the equipment in there brand new? Am I supposed to believe that Nathan had the means to order the construction of a state-of-the-art blast door and move all of that equipment in there himself? No, I don't buy your 'hands-off' story. You knew what Nathan was doing, and instead of getting him help, you buried him underneath the family barn and called it a day. You may not have held the camera, but your fingerprints are all over their pictures."

"I buried all of this because I wasn't about to let this psychopath destroy years of my work that was all for his own future!"

"That psychopath is your son!"

"Not after murdering that girl, he isn't!"

Sean clenched his teeth as he realized his mistake. Chloe saw the defiant look on his face melt into anger, and she knew she had won. She smirked. Sean sighed as he shook his head.

"You really were about to kill me, weren't you?"

"Gun's loaded and I'm bad at poker. I'm too straightforward."

"You've got some resolve, Price. It's honestly impressive for someone your age. But were you ready to kill two people?"

As soon as he said that, Chloe heard the click of a gun from her left side. Instinctively she glanced over, but the split second distraction was enough for Sean to butt his head against hers, sending her reeling and dizzy. She lifted the gun at the noise on her left, but before she could fire a shot there was an immense pain in her left shoulder. She cried aloud as she clutched her arm but quickly lifted her right to freeze time. Her head was swimming and her ears were ringing from the sudden blood loss as she stumbled out of the house. A second shot rang out from behind her and searing pain embedded itself into her right shoulder blade. She stumbled and fell on the wet concrete but scrambled to her feet to keep running.

_What the hell? I froze time!_  She glanced behind her and saw a woman, presumably Mrs. Prescott, holding a gun at her, though moving in slow motion. Perhaps in her weakened state, Chloe was unable to completely freeze time, and had given Mrs. Prescott the chance for another shot. The rain around her had also not completely stopped, but also fell in slow motion. She ran as fast as she could toward the gate.

At the front entrance the gate was still locked, so she fired a few shots at the kiosk window. Clearing the glass around the window pane, she slammed her hand on whatever buttons were available. Finally, the gate creaked open, and she dashed through to her car.

Running down the street, her head began to ache incredibly. Both of her shoulders were bleeding badly. She couldn't tell if her vision was getting cloudy from blood loss or from the heavy downpour of rain in her eyes. Though there were no more shots being fired, her ears were still ringing from the shock, and suddenly she couldn't feel her limbs. The rain was cold, and her blood loss did nothing to help that. To her surprise, she made it all the way to her truck. She was about to open the door when her foot slipped on a fallen tree branch and she fell against the side of her truck. Her head throbbed and everything was cold. Her arms lay limply at her sides as blood ran down her arms. The rain washed the blood from her hands, where it collected in little pools at the ground beneath her fingertips.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the tiny microphone and pressed the stop button. She smiled to herself. The cold gusts of wind against her face were hypnotic, and her eyes opened and closed with the rhythm.

Her vision clouded over and the rhythm stopped.

* * *

"There she is!" Tamara cried out.

"Oh my God, she's not moving," Max said with her hand covering her mouth. Tamara immediately slowed down, but Max jumped out before the car came to a complete stop.

"Shit…" Tamara cursed as she parked the car in the middle of the road. Max was already crouched over Chloe, pressing her fingers against her neck to find a pulse. She beckoned over to Tamara who came running.

"Unconscious, but she's alive. She's alive," she whispered to herself and Tamara.

"We need to get her out of here."

"We should call an ambulance," Max said hurriedly.

"No!" Tamara said above the din of the rain. "If they find out she's alive, our case falls apart. I can treat her at the warehouse."

"Tamara-"

"She just broke into Sean Prescott's house! If we give her to a hospital we lose her to the cops. Let me save her."

"Fuck…" Max breathed out.

"Just keep putting pressure on the wounds. I'll move the car closer. We put her in the back."

Tamara quickly jumped back into her car and pulled up right next to Chloe's truck where she lay. Tamara took her legs while Max held her under the arms. They slid her into the backseat where her head rested in Max's lap. Tamara threw a handful of towels at Max before she jumped into the driver's seat and pointed back. "Tilt her head to the side and elevate her feet."

"Tilt her head?" Max asked hesitantly.

"In case she throws up. Just do as I say."

Max complied and tilted her head to the side. She grasped Chloe's hand in hers and was appalled by how cold she was. Nervously she stroked her fingers through her hair repeatedly, hoping that somehow it would miraculously wake her up.

"Dammit Chloe, wake up!" she muttered to herself.

"Max, put your fingers on her neck and start counting beats. I'll tell you when to stop."

"I…okay," she stammered. She placed her fingers on Chloe's neck but couldn't tell if it was her own shaky fingers or a weak pulse.

"I can't tell! I…it's hard to feel anything."

"Under her neck, right there!" Tamara instructed as she reached back to press her fingers into Chloe's neck herself. Max nodded emphatically and did as told, counting the beats. Her pulse was rapid but it felt weak. From the front seat, Tamara was counting silently to herself.

"Time," she finally said.

"Uh…I counted a lot but they were weak."

"I need a number," Tamara pressed.

"I couldn't keep count! But it was way more than one beat per second."

"Shit…"

"I thought it was good her heart was beating," Max said confused.

"Beating, yes. Beating too fast, no. She's going into hypovolemic shock which is causing her tachycardia. Let's just hope it's mild…"

"W-what does that mean?" asked a bewildered Max.

"She needs the bleeding to stop and she needs oxygen. Where is she bleeding from?"

"Her left shoulder and her right shoulder blade, I think."

"Do you have anything to use as rope? Like a belt?"

"I have shoelaces, but no belt."

"It'll have to do. Bundle up a piece of cloth and tie it to her shoulder with your shoelaces, as tight as possible. You want to keep the attention on her shoulder blade. We don't know if she's bleeding internally."

Max fumbled with her shoelaces but was able to yank them out. She held the cloth with one hand and wrapped the lace around Chloe's arm with the other. She bit down on one end of the shoelace and pulled apart, tightening it. She grabbed both ends and retied it, pulling as hard as she could. Then she took the other bundle of cloth and pressed it against Chloe's shoulder.

"I'm putting pressure on it," Max reported.

"Good. Keep at it until we get inside."

They couldn't have gotten to the warehouse fast enough. In an instant, Tamara was out of the car and helping Max pull Chloe's body into the warehouse. She was barely conscious enough to push off with her legs and help the two attempting to carry her, but only barely. Her feet dragged recklessly through the gravel as an awkward combination of half steps and missed footing.

Eventually they placed her down on the futon in the lounge. Max balled up her sweatshirt and placed it under Chloe's head while Tamara used an empty trash can to prop up her feet. Tamara dashed out of the room, leaving Max to run her fingers through Chloe's messy hair, assuring her everything would be alright. Moments later Tamara returned with gloves, a large first aid kit, and a small bundled blanket. She rolled open the blanket on the table and fingered over the various tools. She returned to Max's side with a pair of cutting shears.

"Okay Max, we need to cut her shirt off. You're going to roll her onto her side and keep her steady."

"Cut her shirt off?" Max asked worriedly.

"This isn't going to go well if you question me every step of the way. Just do as I say."

Max gave in as she assisted Tamara in rolling Chloe onto her side away from the two of them. Chloe groaned as she did so but held onto Max to stay steady. Max was just relieved she was still conscious. Meanwhile Tamara had taken the shears to the back of Chloe's shirt and carefully cut straight down the center, leaving two bloodstained flaps of clothing on either side. She then cut through the sleeves and pulled away the fabric. Max gasped as Chloe's bloodied back and shoulders were exposed, revealing the full extent of her injuries. Her skin looked cold and clammy with a sickly pale pallor underlying the darkness of the blood. Tamara went back to the table and exchanged her shears for a flashlight. The light clicked on, illuminating the bullet wounds further. Max could barely stand to look as the new light showed exactly how deep and wide the cavities were. Tamara had her attention firstly on the bullet hole in her back, trying to determine if the bullet was still inside, and if so, how deep it was lodged. As she directed her attention to Chloe's left shoulder, she cursed to herself.

"Can't see a damn thing on her left side. Lay her back down and pull out the futon from the wall."

Max nodded as she slowly set Chloe down. They pulled the bulky furniture from the wall so that Tamara could examine Chloe's left shoulder. As soon as Tamara began examining her, she cursed again.

"Shit! She's bleeding bad on this side. Max, I need you to keep pressure on this while I grab a few more things."

And with that, Tamara left once more. Max looked down at Chloe, who lay on the futon dazed and confused. Her eyelids were heavy and her blinks were becoming more prolonged, bordering on closing completely. Max squeezed her hand and was relieved to feel a squeeze back.  _She was still here, thank God_.

She wanted to say something or ask if she was okay, but she knew it would be best for Chloe to save every bit of her strength during this critical moment.

Tamara returned with a large glass bottle that looked like liquor.

"What's that?" Max asked.

"High proof liquor. Disinfectant," Tamara replied quickly.

Tamara wasted little time as she unstopped the large glass bottle and poured it over Chloe's wound. She groaned and tensed in pain, her hand squeezing Max's painfully. Tamara ripped open a gauze pad and placed it over the wound using athletic tape to secure it.

"Roll her over to the other side," Tamara commanded.

Max rolled Chloe over and held her around her front. Max could hear Chloe's raspy breathing quicken as she anticipated the pain that would come from cleaning the second wound. Tamara held the bottle over the wound and nodded to Max, who took Chloe's hand again. Max nodded back.

Tamara poured the alcohol over the wound and immediately Chloe cried out in pain. Tamara repeated the process with the gauze pad and the athletic tape. After a few moments, the blood began to soak through the gauze pad, but slowed eventually. The wound was finally clotting, allowing Chloe's blood pressure to normalize. Chloe's death grip on Max's hand relaxed a bit and her breathing returned to normal. Her eyes were still closed but she was only resting. Tamara stood up and wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her forearm. She let out an exhausted sigh as she sat down. Her bloodied gloves hung off her hands, which she stripped and threw lazily into the garbage. Pouring out a small amount of the liquor for herself, she nodded to Max.

"It's 2 in the morning. Take a nap. Don't worry about Chloe, I'll keep watch," she ordered.

Max looked down at her shaking hands and felt her racing heart. "I don't think I can sleep," she said, though she felt exhausted.

"That's the adrenaline. Once it wears off, you're going to crash hard. It's better you try to sleep now. Besides, we've still got work to do. Rest up, and I'll wake you when it's time."

Max hesitated but followed. As she tried to find a comfortable spot on the futon, she couldn't help but feel awkward with Tamara sitting there. Of course she had slept with Chloe and was quite used to it by now, but to have Tamara sitting there keeping watch just made everything… _weird_. She settled for lying flat on her back behind Chloe. Her heart, finally slowing after the initial adrenaline rush, allowed her to drift into sleep.

…

_Light everywhere. No furniture. No horizon._  Max quickly realized she was in a dream. But the realization didn't do much good, as she couldn't tell where she was.

The light began to dim, and she found herself standing at the edge of a cliff. It was dark and she could barely see the outlines of her surroundings. The horizon was completely dark. A blazing beam of light passed her from above and she looked up to see the Arcadia Bay lighthouse.

_I'm at the lighthouse again. Am I going to see the storm?_

The dark horizon suddenly was illuminated with the sweeping gaze of the lighthouse. The light sliced through the darkness the same way a present is revealed beneath the torn wrapping. But this storm was no gift, and the darkness was no cheery Christmas wrapping.

In the distance Max could see the twister. It was the same as it had been in every dream, except this time it was frozen. Not frozen as in ice cold or frosty, but frozen in time. It hung suspended on the water, a terrifying column of seething waters and churning foam that shot up in a spiral.

Suddenly the winds began to pick up again. They howled and swirled around her, pushing her closer to the edge of the cliff. They brought her to the edge and knocked her off when she awoke.

…

Chloe stirred and pressed against Max, who had just woken from her dream. She realized that Chloe had been the force that had shaken her out of her dream, and she rubbed her eyes, thankful to be awake. Chloe was muttering and groaning incomprehensibly but Max was immediately relieved. She sat up and leaned into her.

"Chloe! Can you hear me?"

"Cold…" was all the reply she could muster.

"Take her temperature," Tamara commanded from her seat at the table. Max looked up and saw that Tamara, true to her word, had kept watch by sitting at that table. She wondered how many more cups of coffee she had consumed in this time. Tamara gave her a funny look for staring at her for so long, prompting Max to move. She dug through the first aid kit and found a thermometer, running it over her forehead.

"It's cold…" Chloe murmured again.

"96.2," Max said to Tamara. "You've lost a lot of blood," she explained to Chloe.

"Where am I?" she asked weakly.

"You're safe. We had to bring you back to the warehouse to patch you up. You're going to be okay," Max answered while stroking her hair. Tamara went to a nearby table and leaned against it for rest.

"What the hell were you doing?" Tamara questioned.

"Let her rest! She's still in bad shape," Max chided angrily, her voice groggy.

"I talked to Sean Prescott," Chloe whispered, "And he confessed. He said he knew about the Dark Room, that he built it, and that Nathan murdered Rachel. It's all in a recording."

"That…that's badass!" Max stammered in wonderment. "You did it! That's awesome! That's…it's great, right?" Max slowed down as she saw Tamara shaking her head.

"It's not enough," Tamara said from the table she was leaned against.

Max narrowed her eyes at Tamara. "What do you mean it's not enough? You haven't even listened to it-"

Tamara sliced through the air with her hand as a way of cutting Max off. "It's not enough!" she repeated, irate. "When I wanted to take down Sean Prescott and his Foundation, this is not what I meant. I mean, what do we have here? An illegal recording of a legally dead girl breaking and entering and forcing a flimsy confession of a crime he didn't even commit? This doesn't help our case at all! If anything, it hurts it!"

"Hey!" Max clipped. "At least she fucking did something! You're content to just sit around and wait for the perfect storm that will magically bring you everything you need to take down Sean and get off scot-free. Well guess what? The only storm you're getting is that Armageddon shitstorm outside that's going to tear apart the town if I can't stop the Foundation!"

"What in the  _hell_  are you talking about?" Tamara asked in utter confusion.

"These powers aren't just party tricks. They came to me when I used them to save Chloe from getting shot by Nathan. After that we solved the mystery of Rachel Amber's disappearance, but realized that my powers were attached to the storm. I had to undo my first action that was to save Chloe to prevent the town from being destroyed. That storm outside is the exact same storm that will tear this town apart if I don't solve the case."

"And what does this case have to do with some supernatural storm?"

"I don't know. But whoever gave me these powers is in my head, and he said that I had to find true justice for this mystery to save the town. Believe me or don't, but this shit is for real."

Tamara's eyes were wide and it was obvious she didn't believe Max. "Well while you're going off to... _save the world_ , I'm going to have a talk with the twins next door."

"No," came a raspy voice.

The voice left both Max and Tamara astonished as they saw Chloe already upright in a sitting position. Her head was heavy as it bobbed to her chest, and she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. Water dripped off the shredded remains of her shirt, pooling between her feet. Her eyes followed the slow spread of the pool.

"Chloe-" Tamara started.

"You're not going to talk to them," Chloe uttered in a low voice. "All you've done is compromise and all your compromise makes everything worse. You double-cross Max, you double-cross the hitmen, you double-cross Sean, I mean just thinking about all of the convoluted shit you've done gives me a fucking headache," she spat darkly. She turned her gaze to Tamara, who met her icy stare. "Everything you did was supposed to help you but it all ended up backfiring spectacularly. So you're going to go in there and what, ask really nicely for them to give you the account? Or are you going to make another deal? Torture them? Anything you do to them you'll have to answer for in court, if you want to get out of this scot-free, anyway. Do you see what I'm getting on with here? You can't keep covering up bullshit with cleaner bullshit and expecting the pile not to stink! You're just making a bigger pile of bullshit!"

"That's enough!" Tamara bellowed. "What would you have me do?"

With unpredicted strength rising in her voice, Chloe proclaimed, "Turn yourself in! Or I will."

Tamara's breath hitched as Chloe's outburst caught her off guard. Chloe's long-winded tirade left her breathless. Max was as astonished as Tamara was, the obvious reason being the thought never occurred to either of them. In this whole debacle of covering up the past, Max had mistaken Tamara's drive for self-preservation as a desire for justice.

Chloe rose to her feet with strained effort. She glanced at Max, who was still frozen in place. "Come on, Max. I'm going home." Max stood there unmoving and Tamara remained leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and her gaze pointed at her feet. As Chloe got to the door, she turned back to Max, who sighed.

"Five minutes," Max said quietly. Chloe paused before she nodded and left.

The door closed, leaving only Max and Tamara. Max took a seat at the table, leaning on it while thinking of something to say that would break this tense silence between them. Tamara was as still as a statue against the wall as she pondered the same. Both waited for the other to say something, yet both wished that nothing would be said. It was easier this way when no one said anything.

The burden fell to Max. "I'm not going to act like I don't agree with Chloe," she began. Tamara smirked ruefully as she nodded. "But," Max resumed with a sigh, "I can't ignore how you've tried to do right."

Tamara looked up at Max's acknowledgment. Max continued, "When I first discovered my powers I told myself I was doing things to help others. I stopped a girl from being hit by a football, I talked to loners who felt like they didn't have friends. I related to geeks who couldn't relate to anyone, and I connected with people I'd never connect with. And you know what I realized? I didn't need my powers in most of those situations. It doesn't take a time traveler to be a friend and reach out to someone new. I just happened to have powers that allowed me to do what I didn't do the first time around."

"What are you saying, Max?"

"I'm saying that I understand what it's like to try and cover up your mistake, to try and right a wrong. My greatest regret is not being there for Chloe when her father died. That was five years ago, and I've been fighting through hell to make up for it. If I stuck by her side, none of this would have happened."

"I see…" Tamara mused.

"But Tamara, I…I can't follow you any further. I can't help you cover yourself up if it compromises what I've fought for. I hope you understand."

Tamara's expression remained thoughtful and unchanged, but Max could see a flicker of regret flash across her face and in that moment, she knew Tamara understood. Tamara slowly went over to Max and held out her hand.

"Then this is goodbye, Max."

Max stood and shook her hand for what she knew would be the last time.

"Goodbye, Tamara."

Max moved to the door but Tamara called out once more. "Thank you. For everything."

"Good luck," returned Max genuinely. The door closed behind her as she headed to the parking lot.

In the main area of the warehouse Max looked up at the ceiling. The old rusted sheet metal bore several gaps in its placement on the roof, allowing the pouring rain to fall through. Lightning flashed through dirty windows, followed by thunder that shook the building to its core. She rushed to the front entrance, hoping futilely that the storm would somehow die down.

Suddenly there was a loud crack coming from outside the warehouse. It wasn't thunder, but its impact felt enormous. There was the whoosh of wind and a great rustling of leaves when one side of the warehouse cleaved in two, its sheet metal wall tearing down the middle like a zipper. Sitting at the base of the tear and welcoming in the wind was a massive tree, completely uprooted. It had fallen over from next to the warehouse and the winds had collapsed it on top of Tamara's small hideout. It shook the whole warehouse worse than any thunder could have shaken it, and Tamara quickly came running to the main area.

"Max!" she cried, running to her.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" Max repeated, still astonished by the magnitude of the storm.

Chloe was next, having come in from the parking lot and was now standing in the doorway. "The storm's picking up like hell! Max, we've gotta stop it!"

Max ran towards Chloe but Tamara grabbed onto her arm.

"Hold on!" she halted. Tamara had noticed Max in only a thin sweatshirt that wasn't designed for nearly this much rain. She took off her own dark overcoat and threw it around Max's shoulders. "You can't save the world if you catch pneumonia." Max faltered at Tamara's acknowledgment of her quest. The moment was short-lived however, as Tamara ushered her on, "Now go." Max nodded and ran off to Chloe, who was motioning for her to hurry up.

"Good luck!" she shouted after her. The two jumped into Chloe's truck and sped off, racing to beat the storm.

…

Max's heart was racing out of control as she struggled to keep the truck within her control. Around fallen branches and rubble she swerved, eyes scanning the road back and forth, looking out for any obstacles that might tumble into their path. To her right sat Chloe, visibly uncomfortable, both from the speed and her injuries. She was scooted far up in her seat, bracing herself by pressing an arm against the door. She looked out her window fearfully.

"I can't believe this is finally happening," she whispered somberly.

"We're going to stop it. I know we can," said Max with forced confidence.

A break in the hills revealed the Arcadia Bay lighthouse standing tall and watchful of the night. Its beam shone out onto the waters of the bay, calling any unfortunate ships caught out in the storm back home. Little did it know that home was to be a death trap, the lone target of the angry twister headed for land. As Max and Chloe got out of the car at the base of the hill, they could see the twister in all of its terrifying might. Small arcs of lightning shot out from the twister, threatening to spark a fire in any of the many dust trails caught up in its wake. Entire trees were uprooted by its indiscriminate ferocity, and Max counted herself lucky that the collapsed tree had only fallen down and was not thrown.

Wind beat upon them as the ocean beat upon the rocks. Its near constant flow was interrupted only by the stinging rain that poured down from the heavens. Storm clouds swirled above, almost blocking out all view of the moon. The rain made the ground slippery, and combined with the wind and suffocating darkness, their journey to the top of the hill became that much more treacherous.

Max led Chloe by the hand. Chloe trailed behind her, cold and shivering both from the storm and from her injuries. Max did her best to lead her footsteps, but many times it looked like Chloe was about to fall.

"We're almost at the top," Max encouraged gently.

In earlier years, Max and Chloe would race up and down the lighthouse steps or come simply to hang out. From this point on, they would look to the lighthouse as a headstone for their youth.

Finally at the top of the hill, unprotected from the wild winds, they paused to marvel at the enormity of the storm. The wind and rains howled around them madly, a torrent of blind chaos and destruction. This storm was like only one other she had faced before: there was a tangible presence possessed by this storm, a near-sentience that demanded it be engaged.

Something in the storm pulled her, though not with its winds. It called out to her like an angry child demanding attention from a parent. It was then that she realized what she must do.

Max slowly began to reach out her hand. Chloe quickly grabbed onto her, asking "Max! What are you doing?"

"Just trust me!" she replied.

Max grabbed onto Chloe's wrist and pulled her close. She held out her hand in the same way she used her rewind powers and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and focused on creating a still moment, ignoring the sting of the rain on her cheek or the force of the wind that threatened to topple her.

She was at the top of the hill. Chloe was by her side. The storm was approaching. She was destined to stop it.

When she opened her eyes, the twister had frozen in place. Branches and other debris hung suspended in rings around the center of the storm. Chloe was looking around her in wonderment, mouth slightly opened.

"You…you froze the storm. But-"

Chloe was cut short by a light that began to radiate from Max, who looked down at herself in surprise. The light pulsed gently with a heartbeat of its own, eventually swelling to completely envelop her vision. At once it died down, condensing into the ghostly image of a girl who stood in front of them. Her face was covered by the glare of the intense light, yet she almost seemed to smile at the two.

But not even the girl's ephemeral appearance nor her partially obscured face could have prevented Chloe from instantly recognizing her lost friend and greatest tragedy, Rachel Amber.

"Rachel…" Chloe whispered.

The girl's smile grew even wider as Chloe recognized her. "Hey, Chloe."

"I…I can't believe it!" Chloe cried as she ran forward to embrace Rachel. But to her disappointment her hands passed straight through Rachel's figure, unable to make contact. Her heart sank as she realized Rachel's lack of a physical form.

"I'm sorry," Rachel lamented. "I'm here, but not… _here_ , physically at least."

"No, Rachel. I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have gotten upset at you that day or blown you off that night. If I had stuck with you, maybe you'd-"

Rachel hastily interrupted. "Don't you dare say it, Chloe. I'm the one who pushed you away. Besides, I didn't bring you here to throw myself a pity party. I came here to deal with that," she said as she pointed a finger at the frozen twister.

"You can stop it?" Max asked, hopeful.

"In a weird way, I  _am_  the storm," Rachel corrected. "Actually, in a lot of ways I was the cause of most of your adventure. It also means I was the cause of much of your pain. I'm sorry," she added grimly.

Max's face lit up in realization. "You were the voice in my head."

Rachel nodded. "I couldn't let you know who I was until the very end. That was the only way this was going to work."

"The end?"

"Of your journey. I…I never told you this before, Chloe, but I had powers like Max does. Nothing as powerful as rewinding time itself, but similar. I could see glimpses of a person's future and do things to affect it. But when I looked into your future, I saw…death. I tried to change things but I still couldn't shake the image of you and Nathan in that bathroom. It's all I saw, over and over again."

"You…you knew it would be Nathan?" Chloe asked. Her voice trembled.

"I…tried to get close to him so that I might be able to help him, you know? I thought that I could stop him from going bad. But then he turned on me. I didn't see it coming…"

"Oh, Rach…" Chloe sighed.

"When I died, I saw a river made of streams of light. Each of those streams was its own timeline and I desperately looked for one where you would survive. Finally I found it, but it was nearly impossible to achieve, a literal one in a billion chance. A very specific chain of events had to happen. For one, I would have to give Max my powers, which would tear apart my soul."

"Part of your soul lived in me, and the other part was the storm," Max concluded.

Rachel nodded. "The part of my soul in you gave you powers. The part in the world causes problems. Only when your task is complete will I be able to pass from this world in peace."

"But why didn't you stop the storm the first time around?"

"Simply put, because your task wasn't complete. Tamara Nelson gave Jefferson a get-out-of-jail-free card, Nathan wasn't getting any help, and you still had a lot to learn."

Max hesitated. "When you stop the storm…is that it? Are you going from this world?"

Rachel nodded somberly.

Chloe asked, "Where?"

Rachel glanced out at the twister before replying. "On," she stated simply. Chloe gave her a funny look. "But trust me, I can't explain it in any way you'd understand. The supernatural is supernatural for a reason," she added to show she wasn't completely aloof by speaking in cryptic mystical ways.

Max began to feel woozy as blood trickled from her nose. Even Rachel noticed.

"I...I don't know how much longer I can hold this," Max warned.

Rachel looked longingly at Chloe and Chloe returned her gaze. "Rachel, I…God, I just miss you so much."

"Me too."

She turned her gaze to Max and smiled warmly. "Take care of Chloe for me, alright Max?"

Max returned a faint smile. "I will," she said softly.

It was then that Rachel turned around to face the frozen twister. Her arm reached out in the same way Max and Chloe did. A light in the center of the twister began to glow, and time looked like it was unfreezing. The wind slowly picked up and the rain resumed its course. The very space around Rachel's figure began to warp and pull into her center, like a vacuum pulling in dust. Max watched in astonishment as the winds that made up the twister were sucked in by Rachel. The light at the center of the twister moved closer and closer to the trio, until Rachel reached out and grabbed it, causing a blinding light to explode all around them.

Max and Chloe both shut their eyes and braced themselves against the strange explosion. They stayed this way until a gentle breeze pushed its way past Max's hair. She opened her eyes hesitantly, realizing that the storm was gone. The twister on the water was nowhere to be found, and even the clouds that blocked out the moon were gone.

"She did it. She's gone…" Chloe murmured as she wrapped her arms around Max and buried her face in her shoulder. Max felt tears roll down Chloe's cheek and she hugged Chloe back tighter.

Max's ringtone broke the silence caused by the absence of the storm. The scene she had just witnessed was so surreal it took her a few moments to settle back down into reality. Letting go of Chloe's hand she dug in her pocket to read the untimely message. Chloe intrigued, looked over her shoulder.

Her phone read  _One new voicemail._  It was from Tamara.

Quickly she played the message and held the phone to her ear. After a few moments of listening to Tamara's words, she covered her mouth in shock and began to drag Chloe to the car.

…

_"Max. I know things haven't always been easy between us, and that's been my fault. I guess this is kinda an apology and a thanks._

_I'm leaving you this voicemail because it won't be safe for us to be seen together in person anymore. I've taken away Jefferson's deal, I'm giving over the twins and the account, and I'm turning myself in. It's something I should've done a long time ago but never had the guts to do, not until I saw you fearlessly diving into your friend's murder. The police will take me in as an informant and I'll stand before a judge to testify. Everything I give will be more than enough to put Sean away for good, though my chances at getting a good plea deal, despite being an attorney myself, are slim._

_I don't know what the future holds for me, but perhaps that's better left to people like you. I don't know how your powers work, and frankly I don't really want to know. But to whatever part of you that's still a regular human, I'd like to apologize._

_I'm so sorry for everything I've done to you. I've lied to you and manipulated you from the start, and however good my intentions were, nothing could've justified what I put you through._

_When I sent you to talk to Nathan, I regretted it immediately. I thought I was really sending you to die, and to see your hardened expression as you still took my orders in blind faith…well I just felt like ending everything right there. But you kept coming back, even after being knocked out for a week. Foolishly, I forgot the regret I felt and convinced myself that this could still work. The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. I followed that definition to a tee._

_I have you to thank for singlehandedly bringing down the corrupt Foundation. If I'm being honest, I didn't do much of anything except cover for myself. Sometimes I still can't believe you did all of this by yourself, and all because you didn't care what it cost you. I have to admit that it's something I admired about you. You were right, when you called me a coward earlier. I was afraid then, and I'm still afraid now. I'm afraid to see what would happen if I let my past catch up with me. But I'm more afraid now of who I had to become to outrun it._

_I've spent so many years running in the wrong that I've forgotten what it's like to fight for right. I kept imagining myself as the hero of my own story and thought that this was just a dark portion of my narrative. It took you, a true hero, to show me just how far into the wrong I was._

_Wherever you go next, I know that you'll do great things. I hope that one day you can look back on this and count my changed heart as one of your greatest accomplishments. Take care, Max."_

As they continued driving down the pitch black road, flashes of blue and red began to gradually illuminate the streets. They approached the driveway to the abandoned warehouse but were greeted by half a dozen police cars staking out the building. Max didn't slow down, for fear of looking suspicious in front of the cops. Wide eyed, Chloe turned around in her seat trying to catch a glimpse of the driveway. She couldn't see anything.

"What are the cops doing there?" Chloe whispered as if they could hear her.

"Tamara... she... she turned herself in."

"You're shitting me," Chloe said flatly.

Max shook her head as she put the voicemail on speaker.

"Oh my God," was all that Chloe could mutter. "I…I didn't think she would do it."

"You gave a hell of an argument. But I can't help but feel bad for her. We all make bad decisions in life. I just had the powers to fix them."

"Your powers weren't without consequence, though. We both faced our demons tonight. Tamara's demons just happen to be physical. Do you think she'll be okay?"

"I hope so."

As they pulled into the hospital and walked up to the front desk, Chloe couldn't help but feel a mixture of apprehension and starry eyed hope when the receptionist asked for her name and she confidently replied, "Chloe Price."

* * *

_A few days later_

News of Tamara Nelson, State Attorney's confession in helping the Prescott Foundation conduct illegal activities spread like wildfire up and down the coast of Oregon. Arcadia Bay's population quickly turned into 50% media and press overnight. Though businesses in town boomed with the sudden surge of foot traffic, there was an shared tension amongst those who ran Arcadia Bay's prominent businesses. They knew they would all rather keep the town calm and quiet, despite the financial benefits that came with a sudden increase in traffic. A double-murder by the son of the town's most powerful benefactor was already enough news for a decade.

Managing to keep their involvement in the case a secret, Max and Warren had managed to go through their classes at Blackwell without being bombarded by the media, though Nathan's association to both his father and the school did not go unnoticed by the press. Principal Wells took the brunt of the interviews and press time, as expected. Max often wondered how he explained his connection to Sean Prescott, or if the press was even privy to that information. When the Principal announced the creation of Blackwell's Rachel Amber scholarship, she supposed she could forgive him for his past mistakes.

The matter of bringing Chloe back to life, legally, was handled rather smoothly. Tamara had managed to convince the police that she forced Chloe to fake her death in order to pass blame onto Nathan, which they accepted in a heartbeat. Though not the cleanest solution to bringing Chloe back to life, it was the easiest to explain. Even Tamara still didn't know if she believed in time travel quite yet. Chloe's resurrection provided another shock to an already volatile situation and as a result her house was constantly bombarded by the press. Luckily the press didn't notice when Chloe sneaked out of her window and drove off with an overnight bag. She spent the next few days living in Max's dorm, somewhere the press weren't allowed into.

The day of Tamara's trial was a long-awaited one. This was when all of their work would come to fruition, where the Foundation would be exposed and Tamara, hopefully, vindicated. Max and Chloe had managed to find seats in the courthouse; a miraculous feat, considering it was packed with all of the reporters and other press who had previously taken over Arcadia Bay. Tamara gave her statement with all the eloquence of a lawyer and a fierceness that spoke to her resolve to change herself. Though neither Max nor Chloe were on trial themselves, they were nervous throughout. Only when it came to an end did they finally relax, having seen the court's reaction to Tamara's abundance of evidence.

They followed the bustling crowd out onto the courthouse steps, trailing behind the reporters and the police who were trying to push them back. They could see Tamara, closer to the base of the steps, where more of the police were. The crowd pushed further and further down, leaving Max and Chloe near the top of the steps to look over everyone. Above the clamor Max could hear Tamara silencing the crowd to talk to the reporters. A hush fell over the crowd and only the shutters of cameramen could be heard.

"My only regret in this matter is not coming forward with this information sooner. The outcome of my own sentence I now consider to be irrelevant; my only hope being the swift and just sentence for Sean Prescott and his Foundation that will put an end to their corrupt dealings. Thank you."

With that, the police held back the rest of the crowd as Tamara was escorted to her car. Shutters continued to fire rapidly as did their blinding flashes. Her car began to pull away and drive off to some undisclosed location away from the press. Satisfied, the crowd slowly returned to their own business.

A loud bang drew everyone's attention back to the car just in time for them to witness a massive fireball erupt from the vehicle. An intense wave of heat followed, causing some closer to the vehicle to shield their faces. Thick plumes of black smoke filled the air, rising up like a cloud around the car and the surrounding area. Police were all over the scene immediately, and those who weren't rushing to the burning car were pushing the wailing crowd back for their own safety. Screams began to arise from the shocked group of reporters, photographers, and simple bystanders as they realized what had just happened. The photographers continued to snap as many pictures as they could, as though their careers depended on it.

"Oh my God..." Max breathed with a hand over her mouth.

Chloe couldn't even speak. She had one hand over her own mouth and the other clutching Max's arm. She glanced at Max, whose gaze was fixed on the scene.

"Tamara…" Chloe gasped. She raised her arm as if to rewind time, but nothing happened. Max noticed what she was doing and shook her head sadly.

"I don't think we have our powers anymore," she realized.

"We can't just…we have to do something! Say something!" Chloe cried frantically.

"We can't!" Max stopped her. "There's nothing more we can do. The court has her evidence, more than enough to put Sean away. Tamara…she knew what she was getting herself into. She knew this could happen," she murmured, recalling the voicemail.

Chloe settled down but sank down to sit on the courthouse steps. With her arms resting on top of her drawn up knees, she sighed. "She was cold and calculating and manipulative. But a total badass at the same time," she added with a smirk. "I'll miss her."

"She made a mistake and she wanted to cover up for it. I know what that's like," Max mused. "I'll miss her too."

...

The afternoon sun beat down upon the dock, shimmering spectacularly off the waters. Two girls were seated along the pier, watching the waves crash back and forth without so much as a care of their own. The first girl's loose tank top hung casually off her thin frame, very much reflective of her own personality. The blue in her hair matched the blue of the sea, which was also matched by an identically colored streak in the second girl's hair. Unlike the first girl's, her knees were drawn together as her feet kicked back and forth carelessly to the rhythm of the waves. Though still more conservative in posture, she gazed out toward the sea with an unmistakable air of belonging and purpose.

"How's the shoulder?" the second girl asked thoughtfully.

"Twinges a bit every now and then. But it hurts less," the first replied. "You?"

"My shoulder is fine," she returned with some confusion.

"No, Max. Silly," the first laughed. "Not your shoulder.  _You_ ," she emphasized.

"Oh," Max responded, a tad embarrassed. "I'm sleeping better. I don't stress about random shit as much. Probably has something to do with the fact that we just saved the world so everything else, like school, seems meaningless," she added with a chuckle.

"I'm sure that nihilism will wear off eventually and good-ol' Super Max will be back at it again, finding joy in the little things like taking analog pictures. Meanwhile, I'll be chilling my ass off as a live person again, because let's face it: school is really fucking dumb."

"Don't you want to use your second chance at life to do something good?" Max prodded.

Chloe smirked. "Of course. Good doesn't have to mean school. But that really got me thinking. What are we going to do now?"

Max shrugged. "Go on with life? Keep doing what we used to do before life got strange?"

"With you, Max, I would do anything at all."

Max beamed as she rested her head on Chloe's shoulder. Chloe glanced down at her and gave a small smile, perfectly content to remain like this until the sun went down. The two had moved heaven and earth to be together, and now finally without their powers did heaven and earth slow to a halt to grant them this moment.

* * *

_Fin._


	11. Epilogue

**A/N: Bonus chapter! Also for those interested, I am currently writing a sequel!**

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

_One month later_

Everything was normal. Or at least, it was supposed to be that way. Today was the last day of school before everyone would be let out on a month-long winter break. Some students left school early, while others ditched the last day entirely. But other than the lower attendance of the day, everything seemed normal.

Students at their lockers lined the hallways, teachers discussing make-up tests in doorways, and Max Caulfield stood in the middle of it all. In passing she recognized the various faces around school. Dana was at her locker, deep in conversation with Trevor. Victoria and her posse sauntered down the hall, drawing the gaze of many onlookers. As they passed by Max, Victoria nearly faltered to pause and say hello, but for the sake of her image continued down the hall without a second glance. Max nearly burst out laughing.

A voice behind her startled her. "What's so funny?"

Max spun around, not realizing she wore her amusement on her sleeve. It was Warren.

"Oh, nothing."

Warren shrugged. "Whatever you say. And by the way, the new car? Not bad. I mean, I told you to not worry about it, but still…" he grinned.

Max was taken aback. "What new car?"

Warren paused. He stammered, "Ah…uh, the one I drive around now after you crashed my first one?"

"I didn't…wait, you think I bought you a car?" Max asked stunned.

"No, no!" Warren laughed. "Not you. I just figured you talked to your lawyer friend to pull some strings or something."

"Warren…she's gone," Max said softly.

Warren's expression sank. "Oh. Ah, shit. I'm sorry, I totally…but if you didn't pull strings for my car, then who did?"

"What are you talking about?" Max asked confused.

"Here, just come and take a look," Warren said as he motioned for Max to follow him.

Outside in the parking lot Warren pulled out the keys to his new car. Gazing out at the sea of vehicles, Max was stunned when Warren pressed the unlock button his key fob and a shiny blue sports car responded. The sleek two-seater chirped as the door unlocked and Warren opened it to reveal an all-black leather interior with hardwood accents. Max was not a car person by far, but she knew that this machine must have cost at least twenty-five thousand dollars, if not more. Warren seemed to almost salivate at the sight of the car, which confirmed to Max that this must have happened recently.

"What…how-?" Max couldn't find the right question to ask.

Warren nodded in agreement emphatically. "That's exactly what I said. Imagine waking up to this monster sitting in the driveway!"

"You don't know how it got there? Or who bought it for you?"

"Well it did come with a note. It just said, ' _Thanks for your help_ '."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Max didn't know what to say. Of course she was glad that Warren had a new car to replace the one she wrecked. But this grand demonstration of a gift wasn't something she should take lightly. Someone out there had seen fit to drop a $25,000 gift with seemingly little effort at all. Someone like that must be powerful.

"The note said you helped. Helped with what?"

Warren shrugged. "I dunno. The case?"

Max thought about the implications of someone involved with the case lending a favor to Warren. Given that the media barely approached her, it was clear that her involvement with the case was largely unknown. By extension, even fewer people could have possibly found out about Warren's involvement as well, though the note made it seem like someone out there knew. It had to be someone close. The fact that she didn't know this person worried her.

Warren could see Max's thought process and her worry written out on her face. He offered consolation, "Hey, don't sweat it! There's a lot worse ways to threaten someone than buying them a car."

Max sighed but resigned her fears. "Alright," she said finally. "But any more weird gifts or thank-you notes, and you tell me right away, got it?"

Warren laughed. "If only I was so lucky."

…

Max sat through her last photography class before winter break, disappointed and distracted. With both Jefferson and Mr. Gale gone, Blackwell was starting to run out of photography teachers. Eventually they had settled for a taller blonde woman known to the students only as Ms. Alison. Little was known about her, except for the fact that she didn't specialize in photography. The class was being restructured into a more general art class, which drew backlash from students and their families alike. For many like Max, Mark Jefferson and his famed photography was the sole reason for enrolling in this expensive exclusive school. Now that the draw was lost, few saw any point in staying.

In the wake of the events surrounding Mark Jefferson, Max had nearly forgotten about her photo-centric aspirations. Without a mentor of some sort, she felt lost. What did the future have in store for her? Who would guide her as she attempted to make her mark on the world art and photography? With college applications looming on the horizon, these questions would have to be answered, and answered soon.

The bell rung and the class skittered out of the room in clumps. Max was once again at her locker, putting away her books for the long winter break. As she opened her locker door, a small note fell out. She picked up the note and turned it over, where she found a phone number and a single printed line,  _'Thanks for your help_ '.". Her heart raced as she pieced together what it was.  _This must be the same note that Warren got!_  But Warren never mentioned a phone number and there didn't seem to be a gift of any sort. She dug around her locker to make sure, and even looked over and under the lockers. She glanced around the hallway nervously, but saw only other students in their routine hustle and bustle. She pocketed the note and went back to her dorm to pack her bags.

A few minutes later and Chloe sat in her truck out in the parking lot, waiting anxiously for Max. Some of the students passing by ogled and gaped at the now-famously undead girl casually chilling in her car. To some of them, Chloe held up a single finger. She rolled her eyes as they scattered.

Max appeared at the entrance of the parking lot with her duffel slung over her shoulder. Chloe noticed instantly and shouted a greeting out the window. Max hurried down the stairs and threw her bag into the back, climbing into the seat next to her. They drove off.

"You got your snow gear, right?" Chloe asked.

Max grimaced. "If by  _snow gear_ you mean my heaviest jacket and my scarf, then yes. If you mean a giant snowboard I'm supposed to keep in my dorm room, then no."

"I already told you, we can rent snowboards when we get there. But we will have to get you boots," she added. "Excited?" she asked with a huge grin.

" _Hella_  excited," Max agreed.

Chloe laughed. "You know you can't just throw in  _hella_  everywhere and expect it to work, right?"

Max frowned. "What do you mean? Am I not doing it right?"

Chloe smiled and turned her sights to the road ahead, giving no answer.

…

Max sat on Chloe's bed as Chloe moved around the room, packing various things to bring for their trip. She lay her heaviest jackets out next to Max as she rifled through her closet for the rest of her clothes. Max was fiddling with the gloves Chloe had dug out of her drawer, trying them on and adjusting the various parts.

"Hey, look!" she said, tearing open a pouch on the back of the glove. "What are these for?"

"Handwarmers," Chloe said after taking a quick glance and returning to her closet. Max returned a quiet, "Oh." She closed the velcro pouch.

"Shit…" Chloe muttered.

"What is it?"

Chloe left the closet and started digging through some boxes. "Scotch guard. It's good for waterproofing clothes and the like. I can't find it. It's probably in the garage…" she said to herself. "I'll ask David."

"Glad to see you're calling your stepdad by his first name," Max offered cheekily.

"Sergeant Step-douche has too many syllables," Chloe explained dryly with a smirk. "On a serious note though, we've been getting along a lot more. We even had a civilized conversation about the possibility of sending me to an automechanic school."

Max's eyes widened in surprise. "What?" she exclaimed.

Chloe looked almost embarrassed. "I know, right? I've never held a conversation with him for that long where it wasn't just him lecturing or me cussing him out."

"No, the part about the automechanic school," Max shook her head. "I know you mentioned it before, but you're actually considering it?"

Chloe shrugged casually. "David said I'm good with cars and I kinda enjoy it. I'm sure as hell not working at the Two Whales. I'd eat half the food I was supposed to serve," she scoffed. Quieter, she added, "Plus, I don't think I'm charming enough to be a waitress."

The corners of Max's mouth turned up as she fought to contain herself. Chloe noticed and clicked her tongue. "It was only a conversation. I'm still as lazy as they come, you remember?"

"I remember."

Chloe smirked, "But yes, I know that a second chance like this doesn't come around every day. I'll see if I can deal with more school. But what about you? Year's half over and then you'll be a 5th-year senior. Then you'll have to deal with college apps and all of that."

"I'm kinda lost, actually. The whole reason I came back to Arcadia Bay was for Blackwell and Mark Jefferson. And well…we know how that turned out," she said with a sour tone. "But the new substitute they got doesn't even specialize in photography. I knew that it would be hard enough to get a stable job as a photographer, but now I don't even have a teacher."

"You could always be a private investigator. Hell, you've already got the skills and experience to be a detective," Chloe said with a laugh.

Max gave an amused glance at Chloe. "Yeah, because I really want my wardrobe to be entirely made of trenchcoats and fedoras."

Chloe sized her up before replying, "I think you could pull off the look."

Max made a face as she disagreed. "That's a no on the trenchcoat, but if it's mystery you want, I think I've got my first case."

"Oh?"

Max produced the note and gave it to Chloe, who studied it.

"' _Thanks for your help'?_ What's this?" she asked.

Max proceeded. "I found that in my locker after school. Warren got one just like it, except the phone number was replaced by car keys."

Chloe looked at Max in astonishment. "Car keys?" she repeated.

Max nodded, "I saw the car myself. It didn't look cheap."

"Holy shit. You're saying that someone bought Warren a car and…and you just got a phone number? Did you try calling it? Wait, scratch that. Here," she said digging through her desk and producing the flip phone she had purchased earlier. "This is the burner I bought. It's still got some minutes on it."

She tossed it to Max, who opened it hesitantly. "I have no idea who it could be," she said.

"The easiest way is to find out," Chloe stated the obvious. "And besides, if Warren got a car from his note, I could only imagine who would be on the line for you."

Max sighed as she agreed, punching in the number. Worst case scenario, it was a weird prank and all the other person got was the number of a burner phone. She dialed and pressed call.

The phone rang for a few moments before a male voice picked up on the other end.

"Hello, Max. I see you got my card."

His voice was smooth and calm and bore no hints of malintent. Though, villains were usually the smooth ones anyway.

Max exchanged nervous glances with Chloe. She swallowed before shakily replying, "H-hello? Who is this?"

"Alex Rogers," came the quick reply.  _The private investigator!_  Before Max could react, he continued, "I was wondering if you were free to meet tomorrow. I have a business proposition I think you'll be very interested in."

"I…" Max faltered. "I don't know. I mean, what's this about? Can you just tell me over the phone?"

There was a chuckle on the other end. "You saw the car I got Warren, right? Trust me, you're going to want to meet in person."

Max balked. "Don't tell me you got me a car," she said in disbelief.

"What? Sorry, I only got Warren the car because you crashed it. If you crashed your own car, I would've done the same for you."

"So what did you do?"

"Come to my office tomorrow and you'll see," he said before hanging up.

As the line clicked, Chloe looked at Max expectantly. Max looked at the card in her hands, unsure of what to do next.

"Well?" Chloe asked, breaking the silence.

"I've got to talk to him," she said.

"What?" Chloe said in disbelief. "He was totally dodging your question! And what if he just bought Warren the car to get to you?"

"Maybe he did," Max agreed solemnly. "But…Tamara. I have to talk to him for her sake. I need to…I don't know. I need to say something. I don't know…" she trailed off. "Can we stop there before we leave tomorrow?"

Chloe's expression softened as she nodded.

…

The office building was in the middle of a business park. Alex's rented space was on the 5th floor of the 12-story building. The building looked quite new and had a modern minimalistic design in the simple way the outside was marked by alternating windows and walls. They stretched far up into the sky, reflecting the sun at its highest point. Max and Chloe walked through the large lobby to the elevator, taking note of the directory. The fifth floor contained several other businesses, including a small law firm, a startup entrepreneurial business, and the management office of some travel agency. They took the elevator up.

Max drummed her thigh nervously as she waited for the car to reach the 5th floor. Chloe could sense her anxiety and held her hand, stopping her from her nervous tick. Max returned a weak smile but was still unsure of this meeting.

They reached Alex's office, where the door was already cracked open. Max pushed it in slowly, looking around for signs of anyone else. When they found none, Max began to worry even more. There was a desk facing the door that looked like it belonged to a secretary of some sort, but it was empty. Several chairs were lined up against the wall as a sort of waiting area, though they too were empty. Chloe was about to tell Max to leave when the one other door in the room swung open.

Alex stood in the doorway casually. "Max! And you must be Chloe. Come on in," he welcomed.

He pushed the door open more and went back to his seat. Max and Chloe were still out in the waiting room when he called to them again, "Max, I'd like to introduce you to my new secretary."

Max entered the room and was now face to face with a familiar blonde woman whose cold steely eyes she had grown to both hate, fear, and admire all at once.

"... who also happens to be my fiance," Alex finished with a lopsided grin.

Before her very eyes stood Tamara Nelson right next to Alex, beaming at Max, who froze in shock. Chloe's jaw dropped at once.

"Tamara?" Max said shakily.

"Hey, Max."

Max couldn't form a coherent sentence. "But you're...but the car! I saw it! I was there!"

Tamara chuckled. "Didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you? No, I have the state department to thank for this. They figured that the Foundation was going to try to kill me, so they did it first."

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Max said with elation.

"So am I, Max. So am I," Tamara agreed with a radiant smile.

"Told ya you would want to come here in person," Alex said with a wink. "Now, can we get started?"

Alex took a breath before settling into his seat, prompting Max to take the seat opposite him. He had his hands pressed together on top of his desk as he began to outline his proposition.

"So according to Tammy here-"

"Tamara," his fiance corrected hastily. Alex laughed as he begun again.

"So according to  _Tamara_ ," he paused for emphasis, "You have quite the eye for detail, and given how you singlehandedly took down Sean Prescott's entire Foundation, you've also got a load of experience that shows you don't back down from a challenge. You're what, a senior now? And then you have an extra year at Blackwell where they're just starting to restructure their art program. That doesn't seem terribly promising."

"All that to say what, exactly?" Chloe pressed.

"How would you like to work as a private investigator?"

The question left Max speechless. Sure, school seemed almost meaningless when put in perspective of what she had just done over the past few weeks. And yes, her future at Blackwell didn't seem promising now that there was no longer the draw of a renowned photographer who could mentor and guide her into a steady career in the arts. But to abandon the dream completely and work as an investigator?

"I…I don't know," Max paused.

Alex continued, "I need a crime scene photographer. I need someone who can not only capture the fine details, but see them in connection to the big picture. You would still go to school, of course. Think of this more as a part time job, or an internship even. Now I know it's not artsy or anything, but it can provide valuable photography experience for someone trying to build a resume."

"You're being serious?" Max stated skeptically, as more of a question.

Alex frowned. "Yes…?" he replied slowly. "Why wouldn't I be serious? I've seen what you can do and I think you've got the chops to be a real detective. This is a job offer, Max."

Max took a deep breath. "And how long does the offer stand?"

Alex shrugged. "As long as I want it to. But that doesn't mean forever," he added with caution.

"This is all really sudden…" Max began.

"Take your time. Think this one over," Tamara encouraged from the side.

"And I'm thankful for the offer," Max continued, "But this is a huge decision and I don't think I can make up my mind right now," she said with a sigh.

Next to her, Chloe poked her shoulder as she looked at the time. "Max, we gotta leave soon if we want to get to the cabin before sundown. It's still a long drive."

Alex waved his hand. "No worries. I didn't expect you to make up your mind anyway. Like I said, this is just an offer. Think about it over your break, but get back to me before the school year is up, alright?"

…

Max let out a deep sigh as she leaned against the truck. On the other side, Chloe had already opened her door but stopped when she saw Max hesitate to get in. She too leaned on the truck, mirroring Max.

"That was unexpected," she said with a chuckle in an attempt at getting Max to talk.

It worked, and Max returned, "Unexpected is an understatement."

Chloe moved to cross her arms on the hood of the truck and rest her chin on her forearms. "So, whatcha think? Ready to become  _Detective Max_?"

"I've already made up my mind, if that's what you're wondering," she replied, trying to picture what  _Detective Max_  would look like.

Chloe gestured towards Max with her hand expectantly. "And…?"

Max sucked her teeth as she opened the door and got in the car. "And…I'll tell you when we get to the cabin," she said with a smirk.

Chloe looked disappointed as she slapped the truck with her hand. "You haven't really made up your mind that fast. You're just stalling," she accused playfully.

Max's reply was sheepish. "Maybe."

Chloe laughed and got into the car. Next to her, Max had an ear to ear grin, though whether it was from being found out as she played for time or from the ensuing snow trip they were about to embark on, Chloe couldn't tell. For now, the excitement of spending a weekend together in the snow was enough. For now, her smile was all that mattered.

…


End file.
